


Open Your Eyes

by Resacon1990



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Comatose Bilbo, Company-centric, Fluff and Angst, HRBB14, Heavy Angst, Hurt Bilbo, Multi, Multiple Pairings, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 59,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resacon1990/pseuds/Resacon1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Burglar?" Thorin cuts him off. He has to know. <em>He has to know.</em></p><p>Balin takes a deep breath, and Thorin feels like the world is dropping out from below him as Balin gently says, "we found him on the battlefield-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! My first ever BigBang (in any form). I really need to thank the living ass off of Redren5, who without her art and intense support this never would've happened. I'll the ever loving hell out of my two lovelies, Nat and Mags, because holy shit you two put up with me screaming incomprehensibly at bizarre times over the horror that was writing this massive bastard. And thank you, everyone else in the hobbit fandom, because without your enthusiasm for the Hobbit then frankly this never would've been done!
> 
> Just a quick sum up, this fic is about _grieving_ and various different grieving processes. I have actually based every character and their way of grieving in this fic on a person from my own real life experience when I dealt with my fathers death, so this fic has a lot of strong personal meaning to me. Multiple times I found myself having to pull back and have a wee cry to myself over some parts. Fingers crossed I haven't offended anyone with my treatment on some of the characters.
> 
> There is no antagonist in this fic. Some of the characters may come off as antagonists, but because there are multiple different POVs then every character will look different from another's perspective. I have not made a direct antagonist for the reason that this fic is in fact about dealing with grief and I saw no place for a major antagonist. 
> 
> But anyway! Enough rambling from me. Thank you all in advance for reading this! There will be three parts to this fic (which I have delightfully nicknamed in my head "The Beginning, The Middle and The End" which yeah, I know, original right? I'm so creative) and I will have a day or two in between posting each part to allow myself time to make this fic the best possible I can.
> 
> So! Onward, my dear friends, to reading this emotional rollarcoaster!
> 
> [Original Artwork](http://redren5.tumblr.com/post/94560448260/bilbo-received-a-concussion-in-the-battle-of-the)
> 
> [Masterpost](http://redren5.tumblr.com/post/104697243975/art-by-redren5-beshkel-by-heartshapedkey-in-the)

_**OPEN YOUR EYES** _

 

**BILBO'S POV**

Bilbo has never fought in a war. Bilbo has never wanted too.

He remembers tales that his mother used to tell him. She'd have him curl up beside her on their couch with his father sitting across from them in his armchair. He'd have a warm smile and his pipe in hand; the fire would be roaring in its place beside them, and his mothers hand would stroke Bilbo's hair softly as she would recite stories from heart. Some she'd made up and others she'd been told herself when she was a young hobbit. She'd tell him of all the races in Middle-Earth, of the beauty of elves and the strength of humans, the canniness of dwarves and the sourness of  old hobbits like Old Man Took. She would describe the viscousness of orcs and the slyness of goblins, the howls of wargs and the mystery of wizards. She'd speak of their wars, of the horrors outside the Shire but would always remind Bilbo that _good things happen to good people, Bilbo_.

He'd always promised his mother he was a good person, and she'd always kissed his forehead and smiled gently as she'd reply, “ _And so you shall always be, my dear Bilbo_ ". 

But now? As he slices through hordes of orcs, tries to block out the piercing screams, the cries of the dying, as he slips in blood covering up to his knees, trips over bodies littering the ground… it's _now_ that Bilbo wonders if he ever really was a _good person_?

"Bilbo!"

For an awful minute Bilbo wonders if that's his mother calling to him, possibly to rebuke him, but the voice is distinctly male, and he glances over to see a gore covered Kili limping towards him with his brother at his back. Bilbo feels something lift in his chest at seeing the two, wounded and bleeding but still _alive_ , and he doesn't hesitate in rushing over to them.

"Oh thank Eru," he mutters in their ears as he drags them close, "I couldn't find you, I didn't know if you were alive."

He tries not to think about his stinging eyes or that fact that one of them is trembling hard enough to shake their small group. Instead he pulls back and winces at Fili's blood splattered face and Kili's laboured breathing. 

"You shouldn't be here, Bilbo," Fili insists as he grabs onto Bilbo's arm and shakes him hard enough Bilbo that thinks his brain rattles in his head, "you need to go."

"Oh Fili," he sighs as he covers the boys hand and squeezes, "I'm glad you can still make jokes at such a time like this, but honestly, we have to carrying on. Your uncle is undoubtedly in a mess of danger and we should-"

"Bilbo!" Dwalin, who had appeared on Bilbo's left suddenly, and Bilbo has to hold down the insides of his stomach as he sees gore and blood caught in the dwarf's beard and dripping from his axes, “The hell are you still doing here!"

"I-"

"We instructed you to get him _off the battlefield_ ," Gloin bellows at Kili and Fili over the ruckus as he bursts into their group with a screaming goblin caught under one arm in a stranglehold, and Bilbo turns away when Bifur arrives and frees the goblins head from his body. 

"Don't say anything!" Bilbo snaps as Bifur opens his mouth to no doubt barrage him with more instructions to leave just like Dwalin and Gloin, but thankfully he complies and Bilbo turns to glare at the other shocked faces looking back, “Do not think you can instruct me off this battlefield. Not one of you."

"But Bilbo-" Gloin starts, but Bilbo shakes his head and shuts him down with a wave of his hand.

"No, I'm here because I need to be here. Because I need to help you, because I need to help _Thorin_ ," and he turns his glare to Dwalin who looks stunned and determined all at once, “You _especially_ should know that, Dwalin."

Dwalin looks suitably chastised, and Bilbo nods in relief that Dwalin understands. The others still look confused, all glancing between Bilbo and Dwalin with a keen interest, as if the two are keeping a secret from them.

Well, they are really, but Bilbo hardly thinks _now_ is the time. Especially when Thorin... well, isn't himself. 

He tries not to feel discomforted by the churning in his gut at that thought, nor the stinging of his eyes as he feels a phantom pair of hands on his throat, and he gently reaches up to massage the skin with blood soaked hands and avoids eye contact with the group. 

"I will not leave," he bites out into the insufferable silence between them, “That is my choice to make. Not yours."

No one looks impressed, Bifur least of all. He growls something in Khuzdul, something that goes over Bilbo's head. But it doesn't matter as a fresh wave of goblins and orcs are announced by human screams and vicious roars. Bilbo glances up to see the hoard tumble down the incline in front of them, and Bilbo is dragged behind Dwalin as the five dwarves surrounding him let out battle cries of their own that leaves his skin crawling. 

Bilbo doesn't stay still though, Eru no. He charges with the others and slices the kneecaps and thighs of many as they lunge for his friends. He fights back waves of nausea as he sees Dwalin practically _carve_ his way through the hoard, his skin turning a sickening red that matches Gloin's hair. He sees Fili scream as a sword stabs through his shoulder and hears Kili's shouts as he dives for his brother. He feels Bifur against his back, the dwarf calling out in his language that Bilbo can't understand, and Gloin barks out half-assed orders that are easily drowned out by the sounds of the battle raging around them. 

He wants to stumble to the side and slip on his ring. To disappear from view and never see anything in front of him again. He doesn't succumb to his fear though as he jumps to the boys’ aid, defends Dwalin's back, pulls Bifur and Gloin from trouble more times than he can count. He tries to keep up, and he does well enough that he only earns a few wounds of his own. There's blood dripping from his mouth and his eye is black from an orc's sharp fist, a tear in his coat and scratch on his back from a vicious goblin that'd been dispatched by Dwalin, blood on his hands from trying to pull his sword from where it was embedded in the skull of a stray warg far from its pack. 

"Gloin!" he cries out as Gloin slips in a wet patch of mud, and Bilbo somehow manages to get a handful of thick hair to try and tug the dwarf up at the same time as block a blow from a goblin's shabby weapon. Gloin roars in pain, no doubt at having his _hair_ pulled, but Bilbo ignores him as he scrambles for his balance as Gloin's movements rock him dangerously.

Dwalin is by his side in an instant though and he grabs Gloin's arm at the same time as defending the two of them from the countless foes piling around them. Bilbo can't manage a 'thank you' past his wheezing breaths, but he settles for a grateful nod before plowing into the enemy all over again. It's all a blur, whether from the blood stinging in his eyes or from the continuous rush of enemies, but he manages to fall into a rhythm. _Slash slash stab. Slash slash stab_. There's sprays of wet blood that soak his already wet clothing. Fili is at his back, Kili close enough for Bilbo to touch, and Dwalin towers over them like some giant guardian.

It's going _okay_ , he thinks as he ducks and dives, it's going _okay_ until the new horde separates them. He watches as Fili is flung to the side, Kili already darting after his brother despite Dwalin's roars to stay still. He frets for a moment before he starts forward to try and aid the boys.

But then his foot, _his blasted foot_ , suddenly catches on a pothole in the ground filled with the blood of things Bilbo doesn't want to think about, and he tumbles to the ground.  

The world slows down as he falls, slows down enough for him to see the men, dwarves and elves around him tiring. To see a distracted Dwalin's thigh sliced hard enough to drop him to his knees. For Gloin to run a sword through the eye of one goblin as another jumps on him from behind and sends him careening forward. As Bifur tries to fight off three orcs’s violent attacks as well as scramble to help his comrades. As Kili and Fili struggle to their feet under a constant onslaught of orcs and goblins, but slip too much in the mud and disappear under bodies upon bodies.

It's all Bilbo has to see- it's enough for him to see,- before he crashes to the ground. His hand releases Sting in his shock, the clatter of the sword hitting the stones beneath him a thundering noise in his ears that rings and rings. He bounces back up briefly before slamming into the rocks, a stone pushing past flesh and into his head. Stars burst in his eyes as pain rockets through his skull, and before he can even struggle for a hitched breath, there's a goblin crawling on top of him with a sword posed above Bilbo's stomach. The tip scratches against his delicate skin, and Bilbo wants to scream past the suffocating block in his throat and the blackness creeping over his eyes; but he can't as he claws with weak hands at the goblin sitting astride him with a foul look upon its face.

"Weaaaak," the goblin hisses as it stabs with cruel jabs and slices at Bilbo's hands and arms before it slams the knife hilt twice into Bilbo's temple. Bilbo's vision flickers a few times, as the goblin’s knife is still creating searing trails on his skin, before he goes silently still. 

The last thing he hears is a violent scream from Kili mixed with a contrasting cry of triumph. The last thing he feels is a blade burying itself in his hip as the weight of the goblin is torn from him. The last thing he sees is Dwalin's pale face staring down at him as his lips move at a great speed and...

Oh.

Eagles… So many eagles…

 

...

 

 

**BALIN POV**

It's a naïve fool who believes that war is over as soon as the last enemy falls. Balin has met many of these fools and he has never had the patience for them.

The field of battle is littered with corpses, and Balin resignedly accepts the sickening wet noise that his feet cause as he squelches along in the blood and gore and no doubt _piss_ of dead, dying and frightened men. He knows a few of the dwarves on the ground from his previous visits to the Iron Hills, even vaguely recognizes a handful of the woodland elves, but he otherwise looks away from the faces of the countless bodies.

It never does end well when one dwells on the dead.

He slowly heads towards the tents in the distance. They're crudely erected and barely standing, and the hustle and bustle about them makes Balin sigh. He hardly wants to join the crowd; he would much rather sit here amongst the dead and just not _think_ for a while.

The urge to find his brother is what pushes him forward. He has no doubt Dwalin is alive, the brute would hardly let a battle such as this kill him, but he can't help feel a little doubt. 

He also acknowledges his urge to find the rest of the Company. He'd been with Bofur and Dori throughout the battle, having been separated from the others, but the two had already disappeared in search of their own family with sincere promises they'd be back to see Balin with them.

But the knowledge that the _King_ is in that camp, lying on his deathbed with Oin undoubtedly slaving away over him in an attempt to keep him alive, _that_ is what worries Balin the most. He doesn't fear for his brother or the Company, as much as he fears for the… _his_ King.

He wonders what it means that he doesn't instantly think of Thorin as _his_ King?

"There's a storm coming, laddie," he mumbles to himself as he picks his away amongst the dead, “And I don't think we're equipped to weather it."

He's proven right within moments when he hears a scream, a scream Balin has heard few times in his life.

The sight of his brother walking towards him holding a small limp body shocks Balin. The pain on his brother’s face and the way his shoulders are trembling makes Balin wonder just _who_ exactly it is in his arms. But when Dwalin gets closer and Balin sees that his eyes look wetter than Balin has seen them for a long time has him shaking his head in disbelief and horror.

"No," he says, "no this can't-"

But it is. It's _Bilbo Baggins_ \- the bravest of all hobbits, their burglar, their _friend_ \- who's lying in his brother’s arms, bleeding from wounds Balin can't count no matter how much he tries. Bilbo with a pale face and closed eyes and…

It's the small hand that makes Balin choke on a sob, something he hasn't done for a _long_ time. The arm dangling down with the small _, small_ hand hitting his brother’s thigh as he walks.

He reaches out for it, not caring about the wet blood smearing over his own hand, and he grasps Bilbo's cold fingers with his.

" _No_ …"

 

…

 

 

**OIN POV**

"…contusion on the eye, small gashes on the left corner of mouth, split lip, tooth sized gashes to tongue, lacerations on the under sides of arms and across palms of hands, hemorrhaging wound to the hip, contusions on lower hips, abrasions along the legs and tops of the feet, possible broken right ankl-"

Crying. Oin hears crying. He cuts himself off mid-sentence and turns from the patient to stare down at young Ori, who's staring at the patient with a forlorn look that could rival those Oin has seen on grieving mothers.

"Are you getting this down?" Oin barks harshly. There is no time for this. No dilly-dallying around. No _grieving_ for that which is not yet lost.

"I-"

"Cry later," he snaps as he taps furiously on the book held in Ori's hands, "when you have _time_. Right now, focus on your work."

Without waiting for an affirmative, he turns back to his work, his large hands gliding over the wounds all over the patient, and he repeats the last few again for Ori to catch up.

He ends up beckoning over a hovering Dwalin and instructs the brute to aid him in turning the patient onto his front. He spares a glance to the still bleeding wound on the hip, deep and sludgy, and after a few moments he grabs a clean rag and slaps it over the wound.

"Put pressure here," he snaps to whoever is loitering behind him. He feels hands scramble over his, enough of an affirmative he needs, and he draws his hand out to flip the patient over with Dwalin following suit.

He'd only briefly seen the damage when Dwalin had brought him in, but seeing the sheer amount of blood covering the patients back makes Oin want to vomit, and he's seen _worse_.

"He's not Bilbo," he ends up having to say to himself in a mutter as he reaches out for the hot water and cloth that Bofur had brought in earlier and starts to methodically clear away the worst of the blood. “He is a _patient_ , and he is not going to _die_."

"Oin," Bombur pipes up, and Oin glances over just for a moment to see him as the one pressing the already red rag to Bilbo's… the _patient's_ hip. “Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm bloody okay," he snaps in reply. “Why the bloody hell are you asking if I'm okay, when there is a patient practically dying on this table? _Pull yourselves together_!"

"But it's not just a patient though," Ori mumbles, and Oin turns his glare to him. “It’s _Bilbo-_ "

"Until further notice, he is a _patient_ ," Oin growls, and he knows he's being harsh but, decisions can't be made through emotions. _Disassociation_ is what's needed. "Bombur, change that blasted rag for a new one. Dwalin, hold his head _gently dammit_ , so I can see his back better. Ori, keep up with your writing!"

He turns back to Bilbo, _the patient_ , and he tries not to let his hands shake as he continues to wipe away the blood. There's so much of it, covering every little wound, and Oin has to breath through his mouth lest the smell of coppery blood makes him gag like the others around him.

It's okay though, he thinks, it's okay because head wounds always bleed more than they should. Their severity should never be judged by how much blood there is, and he's positive that it's not that bad, even though the skin is ripped and swollen in one area, and the _hole_ in Bilbo's head is so _dark…_

" _Oin_."

" _What_!" he shrieks, and he glares at an almost scared looking Dwalin who's pointing with his blood stained hands, _so much blood_ , at the patch of skin Oin is wiping at.

"You've been cleaning the same spot for nearly a minute," Dwalin calmly explains. Oin frowns at how gentle the dwarf sounds and makes a mental note to check him for head wounds later. “Are you… are you sure you're okay?"

He's not. He knows he's not. In all his years, he's never been this shaken, not even when his brother’s wife nearly died giving birth, and he'd spent hours upon hours trying to staunch the blood flood and make sure she _lived_. He's never been this bad, and with a heaving sigh, close to a sob, he covers his face.

"There's no time for this," he ends up saying after a strained moment of silence. “There are hundreds other dwarves out there desperate for help, even humans and possibly elves. Friend or not, there is no time-" He has to cut himself off, as he swallows back his next words and stands up with a straight back.

There is no time. With a stiff nod at the others, he turns back and continues to vocalize every wound.

"Large diagonal laceration across back spanning the width of my index finger. Numerous cuts surrounding it. Head wound the size of my fist, most likely smaller ,but swelling has increased size. Dwalin, tilt it- Yes. Deep wound, broken through all layers of tissue, possibly reached the bone…"

 

…

 

 

**NORI POV**

It's not the crying that gets to him the most. It's the _silence_. The unbroken silence of the Company as they sit outside the rickety tent and watch people stomp past carrying stretchers of those dead or alive.

"How much more longer do you think they'll be?" Bofur asks from where he's perched on a barrel beside Nori, and Nori glances over at him once before leaving it to one of the others to answer.

No one does though. They all just sit there in a cold silence. Gloin is asleep beside the entrance to the tent, drooling onto Dori's shoulder as Dori stares at the ground with worry. Nori has considered getting up and sitting at his brothers’ side, to offer him comfort of some sort, but Bofur had already sat to press their arms together, and Nori was loathe to move.

It's not too bad, Nori admits. He's never been a giver. More of a taker, and Dori has Gloin to comfort him when the dwarf wakes.

Balin hovers fretfully at the tent entrance, pacing backwards and forwards and tugging at his beard, and Bifur is an unmovable lump on the ground beside him. There's only six of them, and it makes Nori's stomach roll at the thought that they could've been nine if that _blasted King_ of theirs hadn't gone and gotten himself practically killed.

He's lying four tents away, unconscious and still bleeding no doubt, and the two princes are similar in the tent over the way. Nori's already snuck in, completely against Oin's orders for them to all _stay out of it_ , and looked at all three of them with a critical eye built for detail, and honestly? He doesn't know if he holds much hope for them.

Not that he had told the others that when they asked, all of them being restricted by Oin's orders. He'd lied through his teeth and told them full recoveries were in order.

"How did it happen?" Bofur tries with a new question, but this time it's aimed at Bifur, and Nori doesn't show much interest.

He knows how it'd happened. He'd already spoken to Dwalin earlier, before he'd disappeared into the tent with Ori at his side. Bilbo was just outmatched. He's a hobbit after all; he was never meant for battle. He was meant for armchairs and gardens and making cups of tea to serve with scones and…

Nori doesn't really want to think about what Bilbo was supposed to be doing rather than fighting for his life in that tent.

Bifur is grumbling along in Khuzdul, something Nori understands but doesn't bother translating. Bofur seems completely absorbed though, and Nori tries not to flinch when Bofur's hand finds his arm and squeezes tight enough to feel through his armor. 

A King, two Princes, and a Hobbit. Mighty heavy losses for this battle.

It's the first time he's done it in a long time, but Nori closes his eyes and blocks out the noises for a while. He's not use to it, having trained himself into being aware of every little thing around him, but it feels good to just be _numb_ for a while. Just until the tent flaps opens, and Bombur comes out with a grim smile and a gesture for them to come in.

The stench of blood is thick in the air when Nori first walks in. He's tempted to turn and run, but Bofur stops him with a gasp as he all but turns to bury his face in Nori's chest. Nori can't help his moment of panic, not used to people seeking him for _comfort_ of all things, but Bofur's not the only one to come to him, and Nori is even more surprised when Ori is suddenly in front of him. He has to choke back a sound of distress at seeing the sheer amount of blood on his younger brother’s body and face, and he succeeds right before Ori stumbles forward to sob against him.

"He might not come through, Nori," Ori sobs with his face pressed into Nori's neck with his tears soaking into Nori's skin uncomfortably. “He-“

"Is in a coma," Oin interrupts, and the whole tent goes silent as they turn to look down at the small hobbit on the bed. “He will heal over time. But the wound on the back of his head and the bruises on his temples show evident signs of trauma. He'll heal, but whether he wakes up is a whole nother matter."

Nori can tell he is more unsure than he sounds, sees the way Oin shifts on his feet and refuses to make eye contact. He wonders if Oin is actually positive that Bilbo will _heal_ at all, but he can't think much more on the matter as Oin leaves the tent. Ori's tears start up anew, and Bofur is pulling away to stand by Bilbo's head with his hat clutched to his chest.

It's almost too much, he thinks as he holds his brother and, after a moment, beckons Dori over to join them. Dori looks unsure, something Nori isn't too surprised about. The bond between them has been strained for too long a time. But it's for Ori, so Nori doesn't think twice as he lets his older brother wrap his arms tight around their group.

Around the room he can see the others doing the same. Bombur pulls a tearful Bofur back into his bulk, holding him close as he hides his face in Bofur's back. Bifur stands with them, his hand resting on Bombur's shoulder as he stares at Bilbo with sightless eyes. 

Dwalin is leaning on Balin. Not enough that's it's obvious, but Nori sees the way Balin starts to sag under his brother’s weight, and he has to wonder just _why_ Dwalin is so effected by this. 

It's Gloin, standing by himself and staring at Bilbo with eyes so glassy that Nori wonders who he's _really_ seeing, who finally breaks the fragile silence. He looks up at them all, his eyes lingering on their family groups briefly before he shakes his head. 

"It's his fault," he says harshly, "it's _Thorin's_ fault."

Nori has always enjoyed the odd drama. He's made profits from many. His gambling always the perfect fuel to the fire. But now? Right now? He doesn't enjoy it. He doesn't enjoy how the room falls apart into yelling and screaming as those six words, _six_ _words_ , break the Company. 

Ori is the first one to react. He pulls his head back from Nori's chest and turns to stare over at Gloin with wide eyes and an open mouth before he exclaims, “ _What_?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Gloin continues, only needing Ori's prompting to carry on. “If Thorin hadn't have valued a few handfuls of _gold_ -" and Nori blinks at that because isn't Gloin a _banker_? "-over Bilbo's _life_ , then we wouldn't be here! If he hadn't tried to kill Bilbo, or if he hadn't banished him... We could've protected him."

"Are you seriously blaming this on Thorin?" Ori challenges, and Nori doesn't want to let him step forward and take on Gloin, but he sees no other choice.

"Who else is there to blame?"

"The orcs!" Ori cries. “The goblins, the wargs, the ones that actually _did this_! Not Thorin. He had no part-"

"Don't worry about him," Dori suddenly says, cutting off Ori mid-sentence as he steps forward to stand by Gloin, "Ori doesn't understand many things-"

"That's uncalled for," Nori hears himself saying, and Dori's thunderous look is enough to make him want to cower, but he continues on, "Ori can make his own decisions and form his own opinions. He's not stupid, hell he's got a better grasp than _you_ on this. He can think what he wants."

"I allowed you do what you wanted to do," Dori snarls, and Nori recoils at his tone. “And look what happened. You became a thief and a liar."

Nori knows he's had altercations with Dori in the past. More than he can count. But it still _stings_ to hear what his brother really thinks of him, and he drops his eyes to stare at Bilbo's probe body. 

"Dori, that wasn't okay," Bofur speaks up, and Nori glances at him to see Bofur aiming a gentle smile at him. "Nori is a good man. And he understands the situation. Bilbo wouldn't want us to be standing here fighting-"

**" _And how do you know what Bilbo would want?_ "** Bifur suddenly snarls, and Nori knows the words sound harsher than intended in Khuzdul. **“ _The hobbit got himself into this mess. He should've stayed away instead of joining a war he had no purpose being in._ "**

"That's hardly fair," Balin disagrees. “Bilbo wanted to save us and help us. We can't blame him for his state. You can't blame the _victim_ , Bifur."

"Exactly. Thorin though, he can be-" Gloin starts, but Ori starts shouting at him, and Nori glances up to see his brother angrily gesturing at a shocked Gloin. 

"You know that's practically treason, don’t you!” he almost screams. “You're speaking against your _king_ , the one man who chose to help us reclaim our home! The one man who gave up _everything_ to make sure that we were safe and had a home to go to once we left Erebor! Thorin has done _everything_ for us, and you want to blame him? Dwalin," and Ori turns to look at Dwalin who's watching him with an almost sad look on his face that intrigues Nori enough that he focuses his attention back on the fight, "back me up. Please. Dwalin."

There's a heavy silence in the tent as they all wait for Dwalin to speak. The longer they wait the more Nori starts to feel uncomfortable about just _what_ he's going to say, until finally Dwalin offers Ori a tight smile.

"They're right," he says softly, and the gasp that Ori makes cuts through the air sharply. “This is Thorin's fault. If he hadn't been so _pigheaded_ , so _stupid_ , then none of this would've happened."

"But-"

"That man lying in that tent?" Dwalin continues, as if Ori hadn't spoken at all. He gestures out towards the other tents,.”I don't know that man. I don't know a Thorin who would wage a war over giving helpless people a small amount of money. I don't know a Thorin who would threaten and try to _kill_ Bilbo Baggins, nor a Thorin who banishes people over a _stone_."

"He's your friend!" Ori cries out, and Nori's stomach rolls when he sees the tear tracks on his brother’s face. “Your _friend_. How can you betray your _king_ -"

"That man is not the one I swore fealty to!" Dwalin bellows. If Nori thought he knew silence, then he was clearly mistaken as the room snaps shut with not a single person _breathing_. “In our culture, we are in debt to those that save our lives, and Bilbo Baggins has saved our lives more times than I can count! Thorin showed _no_ _honour_ when he cast Bilbo Baggins out for stealing a rock. A _rock_."

"You're just feeling guilty," Bofur says softly, raising his voice only to speak over Ori's sobs. “Dwalin, nothing that happened in the fight-"

"You know nothing!" Dwalin growls. “ _Nothing_ of what happened on that field of battle! But I can tell you this, Bilbo Baggins only turned up to help Thorin. He only came back out of loyalty to Thorin. And if it weren't for _Thorin_ , then Bilbo Baggins wouldn't be lying on that bed _dying_."

Nori had never quite felt the urge to _hit_ something like he did then, but the look on Ori's face as Dwalin yells causes a rage to bubble in him. He starts to take a step forward, unsure of what he might do, yet determined to do _something_ , but Bofur cuts him off with a hand on his elbow.

"Dwalin," he says as he tugs Nori behind him to stop him from advancing, "you're being a fool."

The look Dwalin sends Bofur is one that makes even Nori shiver, and he's surprised that Bofur doesn't go up in flames from that look _alone_.

"I am no fool. I am just not _blind_ to Thorin's misdeeds," Dwalin growls, but it doesn't matter as Nori watches half the group shake their heads and the other half nod.

The lines have been drawn, he realises **.** The lines have been drawn **,** and the war has only just begun.

 

…

 

 

**BALIN POV**

Despite his brother’s words, Balin is not _blind_ to Thorin's misdeeds. But his loyalty will always remain with the man who saved not only his life, but an entire _clan_ of dwarves from destruction. 

Everyone makes mistakes, and it's only because Thorin's decisions effects an _entire kingdom_ that Thorin is judged so harshly.

"What do we do?" Ori asks him as they walk along between the tents, having left Bilbo's tent and a group of angry and judgmental dwarves behind. Balin looks down at the tearful dwarf with a forced smile.

"What we always must do, Ori," he says, and he can feel the tremors in his voice, but he knows no one will hear them. “We must grin and bear it, Push forward into a brighter day."

"How?"

Balin doesn't know. For the first time, Balin doesn't know, and he _can't_ just come up with an idea. They have a possibly dying hobbit, barely alive king, two princes who are struggling for consciousness, and a torn Company who, at a time like this, need to be a united front. It's a mess, and Balin doesn't know how to pick up the pieces.

"I'll be the one to inform the King of Bilbo's condition," he ends up saying and Ori nods slowly. “It will hurt him a great deal, and Thorin must be told carefully lest it set him back. He has a sort of bond to the hobbit, one that none of us truly understand," he pauses and smiles at the ground. “Dwalin, possibly, but he is a lost cause at this time."

"He-"

Balin doesn't even let Ori continue as he talks over him. "Dain will be watching Thorin's recovery carefully. The Iron Hills have not been faring as well as they could have for a long time, not since the Fall of Erebor and the Destruction of Dale. Trade has been limited to what the Mirkwood Elves are willing to exchange and what Esgaroth _can_. They are otherwise self-sufficient and their lands are unable to contain as many as they do from the refugees. We must be wary. He is an honourable dwarf. He will either broker an agreement with our King or he will see fit to offer his services if Thorin does succumb to his wounds."

"How do you do this?" Ori cuts in, and Balin looks at him in surprise. “How can you be so clinical and detached? _How_?"

He has to stop and think for a moment, and Ori stumbles to a halt beside him in the crowded paths between the wretched tents. He remembers being taught the cold detachment from his father Fundin. How Fundin had reinforced the idea that Balin was to always remain _loyal_ to whatever Durin wore the crown. He remembers his mother trying to convince Fundin to ease his training. Yet Fundin had told her that his sons were to be useful. That one was to be the brains and the other the brawn, and for both to be at the Durin's disposal no matter the cost.

Balin can't remember much to do with childhood. Only lessons in politics and manipulation, ways to change the economy and loyalty—endless tests of _loyalty_.

How Dwalin can deny allegiance to their king now, after years of Fundin's teaching, Balin doesn't know. It goes against every fiber in his being, and for that he is almost _proud_ of his brother.

"It's not a pleasant feeling, Ori," he ends up saying, and oh he knows how much of an understatement that is. To not be able to grieve and to only be able to think about the next play on the board despite the world crumbling around him. He hates it.

Ori looks at him in confusion, something Balin doesn't find surprising, before the young dwarf just nods. 

"What do you need of me?" he asks, and Balin smiles as he reaches out to touch Ori's shoulder.

"I need you to do as I ask," he says, “Starting with finding Dain and arranging a time for a meeting. Find some dwarves and send them to Erebor to find out if at least one of the council rooms is still standing and we will hold it there. Once that is done, find Oin and gather a report on the Princes."

"And you?"

"I have a King to break some news too," Balin smiles sadly down at him.  “And hopefully I won't have a King to put back together."

 

…

 

 

**THORIN POV**

He wakes up to pain.

It roars through his body like liquid fire, burning through his veins and causing a guttural scream to rip from his throat. He can hear the cries of surprise from whoever else is around him, but he can't distinguish who's in the room as he opens his eyes and sees nothing but _blurs_.

Oin's voice is distinctive though, and he reaches out with a shaking hand to grab the nearest blur and wraps his fingers in fur to pull whoever it is closer.

"Oin?" he demands, but there's a shaky “No!" in reply as hands scrabble across his to make him let go. Rougher hands from a larger blur scrape across his palm within a few moments, and Thorin vaguely recognizes them enough to let go of the fur and clasp the pair of hands, but not enough to calm down completely as mistrust sets in.

He starts to scramble up, ignoring the other pairs of hands settling on his body to push him back down, and he keeps trying to demand confirmation that this really is _Oin_ , but he can't find words as he's slammed back into the bed, and the larger blur settles an elbow on his chest to pin him down.

"Careful now, Thorin," Oin's rumbling voice says beside him as his hands on Thorin's squeeze. “I can't have you scaring off my helpers. There's not enough already. To lose this lot would be a hardship, even though they're as useful as Frerin with a bow."

The use of his brother's name, his _brother's_ name, has Thorin settling almost instantly despite the pain still coursing through him. Only _Oin_ would mention his brother, and only _Oin_ knows the sheer amount of times Frerin managed to stab himself with arrows.

"Why can't I see?" he grunts after he's stopped moving and the hands all leave him. He hears a few curses before Oin apologizes and takes _something_ off his eyes.

Suddenly he can see Oin glaring down at him, perfectly clear now, and surrounding his friend is a group of fidgeting dwarfs all looking at Thorin with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.

"Sorry," Oin apologizes again as he waves a piece of blurred glass in front of Thorin's face. “I was using liquids and lotions on your face and didn't want any to get in your eyes. I didn't expect you to wake up so soon."

Thorin winces at the sharp twinges throughout his body as he shifts his weight into a better position before waving Oin off. "Anything for the pain?" he asks through gritted teeth, and instantly there's a root and tankard of water shoved in his face by an overeager dwarf.

He takes the root with his free hand, the other one not lifting for some reason. He doesn't think to look as he shoves the root into his mouth and starts to chew before taking the tankard.

"Alright, get out, all of you," Oin is suddenly growling at his lackeys. “Go make yourselves useful. There are a hundred more dwarves in need of assistance. The King does not need the lot of you!"

Thorin watches in amusement as the group scamper out of the tent until it's just Oin and himself. He's not expecting the beady eyed glare from Oin though, and he raises an eyebrow as Oin grabs his chin and drags his face up towards the light.

"Name?" he demands, and Thoin bats Oin's hand away to frown at him.

"Oin, you know-"

" _Name_."

It's confusing to say the least, and Thorin stares for a bit longer until Oin starts to tap his foot with impatience and Thorin grumbles, "Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."

Oin nods his head before he settles down on a nearby stool and laces his fingers together. "Birth year?" he asks, and Thorin honestly doesn't understand the point of this but replies anyway.

"2746."

"Why are you in this tent?"

"I-" Thorin cuts himself off as he thinks about it. He knows where they are, a tent clearly away from the battle and…

Oh.

The battle.

Thorin swallows the bile rising up in his throat as he think about the complete damage caused by his decision of _war_. He can still see hundreds of dwarves and men, even _elves_ , dying around him as wave upon wave of Orcs, Goblins and Wargs charge them and… he gets it now. He gets why Oin is staring at him with a cold glare, why he's sitting far enough away to be out of Thorin's reach and why he's asking _questions_.

"I'm not mad, Oin," he says softly as he glances down at his lap, "the gold sickness… it's not there anymore."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"I'm not!" Thorin insists, and Oin just raises an unimpressed eyebrow, "I know what I did was wrong. My decision has meant the death of hundred of dwarves, men and elves. I know that if I hadn't been so _stubborn_ and romanced by the sheer amount of gold in that mountain then I know none of this would've happened. I regret it, Oin. Gold means nothing compared to the lives of my people."

Of course, the other dwarf doesn't say anything to Thorin's speech, merely nods his head as he turns around to start rattling amongst his medical supplies, pulling things out and packing others away. Thorin is tense in the silence for a long moment before he sighs as he realizes that Oin won't have anything to say to him.

"Diagnosis?" he ends up asking into the silence, and he sees Oin's shoulders tense up.

"You should be dead," and Thorin admits he wasn't quite expecting the harsh glare and angry declaration from Oin, _of all dwarves_ , nor the way he turns to stare down at Thorin with his hands on his hips. “What you've done is the most foolish thing I've ever seen a King do, and I was around for your _grandfather_."

"Oin?"

"You have a broken arm," Oin continues, and that explains why Thorin couldn't move it, "and you should be _missing_ it. The amount of stitches it took to keep the skin on it is horrendous, and if you break a single one, I will have no problem in removing your arm."

"I-"

"You're lucky your legs aren't shattered, with the blows that you've taken to them," Oin continues like he hadn't heard Thorin. “Only ripped the skin to shreds. More stitching of course. And you've taken a sword to the abdomen that for all intensive purposes should've _killed_ you, but miraculously missed every major organ and artery.” Oin sighs and drops his hands as he turns back to packing his things. “You have many lacerations and contusions, but nothing life threatening. You'll live, somehow."

"And the others?"

Oin's smile is strained. “All alive. Some less put together than others, but they'll live."

"Fili? Kili?"

"Yet to be decided."

"What-"

"Not everyone can be as lucky as you in battle, Thorin," Oin states as he stands at Thorin's bedside with his case of medical supplies in hand. “Those boys should live. Fili may walk with a limp for the rest of his days, and Kili may have lost feeling in right hand, but otherwise. aside from the scars all three of you will be sporting, they should be fine."

Thorin sits in stunned silence, long enough that Oin clearly gets irritated by the quiet and leaves him with clear instructions on what medicines to be taken. The idea that Fili will have a _limp_ , that Kili will lose feeling in his _string hand_ … He can't wrap his head around it, and the _guilt_ just crawls up his chest at the thought of what he's done, of the war and the deaths.

Suddenly he's frantic for a distraction, for reassurance, for _anything_ that isn't blame, and he trembles in his bed as he thinks on what to do.

"Dwalin?" he calls out, knowing that if Dwalin is okay then he'll be outside standing guard. He always has whenever Thorin's gotten himself into trouble, loyal to the end and determined to keep him safe, and Thorin looks to the entrance of the tent to wait for Dwalin to emerge.

He doesn't.

Instead Balin enters and Thorin relaxes back under the furs covering him. It's not Dwalin, but Balin has always been a good person for Thorin to clear his head around.

"Balin," he says with a twitch of his lips that could probably pass for a smile. "I am glad to see you are well."

"Aye, as am I to see you," Balin replies with a small bow.  “It would not do to lose the King just after he became one."

Thorin isn't a fool, he picks up on Balin's neutral words, and he wonders what has happened to Balin for him to… well, _disown_ Thorin. He doesn't call attention to it though as now is most certainly not the time. Instead he sinks more into the pillows and closes his eyes.

"Tell me what you know of the others."

Balin clears his throat from across the room, and Thorin expects him to sit in the chair beside his bed, but he hears no rustling of clothes to confirm his assumption. He opens one eye to see the dwarf simply standing with his hands tucked behind his back as he starts to talk.

"Fili and Kili are both currently unconscious," he says, and Thorin closes his eye again as his chest clenches at the thought of his nephews. “Both with possibly permanent injuries. The others in the Company are better off. Nori and Ori are faring well. After they dragged you to safety, they mostly stayed on the sidelines.” Balin pauses, and Thorin can hear him rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. "Bombur and Oin were together and managed to stay out of the battle. They mostly tended to the wounded as they fell. Dori and Bofur were with me, and we three got out close to unscathed. Dwalin, Gloin, Bifur, the boys and… Bilbo were in the midst of the battle."

Thorin's eyes shoot open, and he turns his head to stare at Balin with wide eyes. "Bilbo?" he asks, unsure if he heard right, but Balin is busy looking at the ground as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

"They were overrun in the last wave. Dwalin has an injury to his leg that has left him unable to walk long distances, and Bifur's arm will remain in a sling for a long time to come.” Balin pauses and Thorin watches him glance up awkwardly. “Gloin took a knock to the head that has possibly left him a bit unstable, but Oin reassured us that he would tend to his brother-"

"The Burglar?" Thorin cuts him off. He has to know. _He has to know._

Balin takes a deep breath, and Thorin feels like the world is dropping out from below him as Balin gently says, “We found him on the battlefield-"

Thorin can't look at Balin as he explains it. As he tells him about Bilbo lying only a handful of tents away on what could be his deathbed. About how the hobbit had come back for _Thorin_. How he'd fought bravely and fiercely but had been overcome by that last wave of fresh goblins and orcs. How he now lay in a coma, and Thorin stares at the roof of the tent as his world crumbles at the thought of _Bilbo Baggins possibly dying_.

"They blame me," he says when Balin trails off after finishing Oin's report on Bilbo's condition. "The Company, they blame me. It's why they're not here." It's not a question, he knows it's true, he knows it _is_ his fault. 

"Yes."

"Dwalin?"

"Yes."

"… the others?"

"All split. Some think it is wrong to blame you, others think you are the cause of everything that has happened."

Thorin nods his head. He thinks about Bilbo, beautiful Bilbo, lying cold and dead, and he bites back whatever distressed noise wants to leave his mouth as he turns to give Balin a tight smile with no trace of amusement.

"Leave me," he says, and he sees the reluctance on Balin's face. “Please. Check on the boys for me."

"I…" Balin still looks like he's going to refuse, but Thorin knows him, knows the loyalty that Balin will always have for him, and he watches as Balin finally inclines his head in a nod. "Don't do anything stupid," he says as he turns to walk towards the entrance, and Thorin's laugh is cold, empty, and hurts his chest.

"How can I outdo this?"

 

…

 

 

**NORI POV**

Watching Balin scamper from the tent with his head bowed is enough of a sign for Nori to know that Thorin probably didn't take the news of Bilbo's condition very well. He observes Balin glancing back at Thorin's tent with reluctance before he sighs and disappears towards the tents holding the two princes.

Nori wonders if he should do the right thing and get up to see if Balin is alright, but he decides against it as he reclines back against the tent behind him and draws one of his legs up onto the barrel he's perched on.

He's far enough away from Thorin's tent that it's not obvious he's standing guard, but close enough to be aware of everything happening around the entrance and to be able to make a sudden move if anything catches his eye.

Nothing is though, and he focuses instead on the knife and apple in his hand. It'd taken a bit of rummaging around but eventually he'd managed to find an adequate apple in this cesspit everyone's convinced is a _camp_ , and he has every intention on enjoying it slice by slice.

He's only maybe two bites into his second piece when he hears shuffling beside him, and he glances up to see a shy looking Bofur holding his hat in hand tightly as he gives Nori a crooked grin.

"You shouldn't eat with a knife," he says by way of greeting as he gestures at the weapon in Nori's hand. “You could cut yourself."

Nori disagrees by raising the piece of apple on his knife and shoving it in his mouth, making sure to drag the flats of the blade across his lips as he pulls it back out. Bofur rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn't leave his face as he shakes his head.

"You need something?" Nori ends up asking after a lengthy silence, and Bofur looks surprised that Nori's actually _talking_ to him.

"I was just wondering where you'd gotten to," Bofur answers with a sheepish grin as he places his hat on his head and starts to wring his hands. "Dwalin said you'd probably be here outside Thorin's tent, but I, well I didn't really believe him. Though here you are."

"Here I am."

Bofur seems to struggle with finding more words to say, and Nori doesn't help as he just carves off another slice of apple and pops it in his mouth. He's not one for small talk.

"Why?" Bofur blurts, and Nori raises an eyebrow, "I mean, I didn't think you had much, um, loyalty to Thorin?"

Nori scoffs. "I wouldn't have followed a man across the entirety of Middle-Earth on a suicide mission if I wasn't _loyal_ to him."

"I just… you've never really showed it?"

"What are you really doing here, Bofur?" Nori growls, and Bofur flushes as he continues to wring his hands and glances at the ground.

"I was coming to see if you wanted company-"

"No you weren't."

Bofur looks gobsmacked, and he stays silent as Nori flicks another piece of apple into his mouth with a smug look. Nori's not stupid. He knows no one ever _really_ wants to know if he's okay. He's been alone for so long that it's not like he has friends, _real_ friends. Not anymore. They'd disappeared when they'd lost Erebor. One to responsibility and the other to loyalty, and Nori almost feels _sorry_ for himself as he thinks about the two.

He's experienced loss before, and he knows that Bofur's probably only here looking for his own sort of comfort.

"Why me?" he asks and Bofur frowns in question. “Why keep coming to me for comfort? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not the most comforting of people."

"But you are," Bofur disagrees as he takes an uncertain step forward. "I mean, you don't have expectations of me. The others, well, they all want me to be the funny one. To crack jokes all the time and lighten their moods. You… you don't. You don't even really know me," Bofur laughs a hollow laugh. “I mean, I'm a lowly commoner, the epiphany of poverty and you… well, you're of nobility."

"My brother would disagree."

"Your brother is so wrapped up in his own grief that he's not thinking," Bofur points out, and Nori doesn't want to agree with him, so he grits his teeth and glares at the ground. “But he's wrong. I don't know what happened to you, or why you became, um-"

"A criminal."

"No, well, _yes_ , but no.” Bofur gives Nori a frustrated look that has Nori grinning into his next bite of apple. “What I'm trying to say is that I find you comforting. And it's nice to… to have someone who's expectations of me are nonexistent.” Bofur gives him a wary grin. “Kinda like Bilbo."

Nori gets it then. He knows that Bilbo and Bofur are good friends, and he'd even wondered about the possibility of there being romance between them. But there were no lingering looks or dramatic sighs on either of their parts so he'd struck that thought from his head. He _gets it_ though. Bilbo has never had expectations of any of them, and the fact that Bofur is craving something similar makes him give Bofur a slow nod in acknowledgment.

"There's a barrel behind you," he says after a moment of silence, and Bofur frowns in confusion.

"What?" he asks as he glances behind himself at the barrel, and Nori rolls his eyes as he slices another sliver of his apple.

"If we're going to be doing this whole friendly consoling thing, we might as well be comfortable."

Bofur gapes back at him, and Nori raises one eyebrow in expectation before Bofur hurries over to drag the barrel to Nori's side. Bofur's definitely not graceful when he clambers up on it, and Nori tries not to flinch at the foreign contact of a dwarf pressing up against his side when Bofur settles.

He doesn't move away though as Bofur's shoulder presses against him and one of the flaps on Bofur's hat tickles his ear. Instead he just turns his knife towards Bofur and offers him the slither of apple pierced on it.

"Apple?" he asks, and Bofur's smile crinkles his eyes as he accepts.

 

…

 

 

**THORIN POV**

He's been essentially grounded for the next few days by Oin, reduced to bed rest, and the satisfied look on Oin's face is enough for Thorin to know that the dwarf takes a great deal of pleasure out of all but threatening to lash Thorin to the bed.

Thorin huffs and reluctantly agrees before he answers a few more questions so Oin may evaluate how “mad” he still is. He knows Oin still doubts his sanity, and he pauses a few times on his way out of the tent to eyeball Thorin judgmentally. But then finally he's gone, and Thorin can recline against the furs and pillows around him.

He chooses to doze for a few hours as he waits patiently for night to come. Oin comes in once more to check on him, and Thorin doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty in pretending he's asleep as Oin checks his legs and arm. Finally though he sees that the only light is that from the few candles in his tent, and shadows from passing people are thrown onto the tent from flickering torches outside.

With a grunt, he sits up, his non-injured hand wrapping around his midriff as he fights for breath before he rolls out of bed and stumbles to his feet. He reaches out to grab the edge of the table by his head as he steadies himself, and he grunts in pain as his legs start to give out under his weight.

"What the hell are you doing."

Thorin starts at the voice, nearly toppling back in his surprise, but luckily there's a hand on his elbow, and he's looking at Nori's curious and disappointed face.

"What are _you_ doing?" Thorin shoots back. “Why are you here?"

"Because someone has to guard you," Nori replies as he moves to shoulder some of Thorin's weight and starts to tug him towards the entrance of the tent. “Come on, there's a stick outside you can use to lean on."

Thorin doesn't argue as he staggers over to the entrance and accepts the stick Nori thrusts at him. It's similar to Gandalf's, _awfully_ similar, and he raises an eyebrow at Nori who doesn't make eye contact.

"Nori."

"I found it," Nori huffs at Thorin's stern tone. “It’s not like the wizard'll miss it until we find you your own walking stick. He's too busy flirting with the elves anyway."

"You shouldn't speak badly about Gandalf. He was the one who brought the eagles," and oh Thorin knows how much of a hypocrite he is considering his bad mouthing of the wizard throughout the journey so far, but the wizard has done them right after all.

Nori doesn't reply and instead moves close to Thorin's side and begins to guide him down among the tents. "If we're quick," he says as he urges Thorin along, “We'll be able to get in to see Bilbo and get you back here without Oin noticing. He's with the Iron Hill dwarves at the moment, and Bofur has gone to make sure he's distracted-"

"Bofur?" 

“- _Yes_ , Bofur. He wants you to see Bilbo as much as _you_ do," Nori snaps, and Thorin glances at the ground feeling chastised by _Nori_ of all people, “So even though it hurts, you need to move fast."

"How do you know I wish to see Bilbo?" Thorin asks, and the look Nori gives him screams unimpressed.

"Why else would you leave your bed so soon?"

Thorin can come up with many reasons, actually. But he does understand where Nori's coming from, and he _is_ right after all. Not that he lets Nori know as they silently navigate their way through the maze of tents until they're standing in front of what Thorin assumes is Bilbo's.

"Stay out here," he commands Nori, and Nori just gives him a nod before he holds open the tent flap for Thorin.

Thorin takes a deep breath, wills his legs not to fail him and slowly enters the tent.

It's quite dark compared to outside, only two candles flickering in the tent, and Thorin takes a moment to adjust before moving further in. When he sees the sight of Bilbo,  _his Bilbo_ , lying on the bed his breath leaves him in a sudden wave and he staggers forward a few more steps only to collapse at Bilbo's bedside.

"Oh,  _Bilbo_ …" he whispers as he _looks_ at Bilbo. His hobbit is pale and small against the furs he's lying on, a bandage covers his head, his lips are a swollen purple, angry, red cuts litter his face, his eyeslids are blue with bruises, and Thorin hates to imagine what he'd be able to see underneath the furs if they were pulled back.

The realisation that this is _his_ fault hits him like a wave, making him shudder as his eyes sting with tears he doesn't want.

"I…" He can't actually find words, his tongue swelling in his mouth and throat closing up. The sight of Bilbo is too much for him, and he drops his head to stare down at his lap. He clenches at his clothing with his good hand, his other hanging limply from his sling, and he struggles for breath against his swollen throat.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to choke out, and he _means_ it. He's never been one for apologies. He's royalty, there's no one he's ever really had to apologize to. But Bilbo? Bilbo deserves more than just a simple apology. Thorin admits he was _blinded_ by the lure of the Arkenstone and the riches of Erebor, and he should never have looked away from his real treasure.

"You're my One," Thorin says aloud, and his chest clenches as he says those words that he'd never been able to say to Bilbo before. “You've been my One since the moment I walked through that small green door of Bag End and saw your innocent face. I remember trying to convince Gandalf that you were the wrong choice, that you were too _soft_ for such a mission, just so you wouldn't come and be at risk of… well, _dying_." He laughs bitterly as he looks up into Bilbo's bruised and red face. "Oh, how wrong I was. You're more braver than I could ever be."

There's no response. Not that Thorin is really expecting one. It hurts to know though that Bilbo can't hear his declaration, especially after all this time. He's avoided it for too long, choosing instead to let Bilbo believe that their love wasn't as deep as it really was, and he curses himself.

"What have I done," he whispers as he reaches out to link his fingers through Bilbo's. Bilbo's hands are cold to touch, and Thorin squeezes them tightly as his eyes begin to sting once more.

It’s probably the medicine thats is making him emotional, he decides. Oin's treatments often lowered his inhibitions despite their effectiveness. Although, they seem to be wearing off as there's a steady pain starting to radiate up his legs, and his arm is throbbing madly. 

He contemplates calling for Nori's aid, but his reluctance to leave Bilbo's side has him keeping his mouth shut as he continues to stroke Bilbo's hand gently with his fingers. It's unbearable for him to see Bilbo this way, to know that it is his fault that Bilbo is like this and Thorin knows that he probably won't come back after this visit.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles once again, "I'm sorry that I never told you how I really felt. Feelings… they don't come easily to me." He pauses as he thinks over his words before he sighs. "I have faith you will live, Bilbo Baggins. You've defeated the odds many times. You won my _heart_ ," Thorin smiles at that, "something Dwalin will assure is no easy feat."

The thought of Dwalin makes him wince, and he swallows a lump in his throat as he looks back at Bilbo. "You have given everything to make sure we had a home. You've all but given your life," he squeezes Bilbo's hand tightly at the thought. “This kingdom will become what it once was," he says with conviction, "I will make sure of it. For _you_."

It's enough for now. No more words can be said, and he raises Bilbo's hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it. He then settles Bilbo's arm back down on Bilbo's chest, bent at the elbow and oh so limp, before he begins the lengthy task of getting up.

He twinges every sore muscles in his struggle to get up, but eventually he manages to stagger to his feet. He's reaching out for Gandalf's staff with a trembling hand, regretting not calling for Nori in the first place, when a large familiar hand lands down on his shoulder.

"Careful," Dwalin growls as he steadies Thorin and shoves Gandalf's staff in Thorin's hand, "the last thing we need is for the King to keel over because he was too bone-idle to ask for help."

Thorin stares at Dwalin in shock, having not realised he was in the tent. He grabs onto the staff tightly and gathers all his weight on it to escape Dwalin's hand as he starts to frown.

"How long have you been here?" he asks gruffly, and Dwalin quirks a hairy eyebrow at him in disappointment. Probably because Thorin is so _unobservant_.

"Long enough." Dwalin pushes past Thorin, albeit gently, to stand by Bilbo's side. Thorin tries not to feel a spark of jealousy as he watches the way Dwalin all but dotes on Bilbo, brushing his hair to the side and rearranging the furs covering the small body.

He knew the two had gotten close in their journey. Dwalin had been the only one to catch Bilbo and Thorin in the midst of their affair, and had been the only one Bilbo could turn to when things got difficult in his relationship with Thorin hit some turmoil. Thorin had seen them many a time huddled together exchanging jokes and stories beside the campfire.

It's with a sad twist of his lips that he starts to move towards the entrance of the tent. He can see Nori's shadow on the walls and once more considers calling out when Dwalin's voice suddenly cuts through the air.

"He knew," he says, "that he was your One. He knew."

Thorin freezes in place, his body stiffening as Dwalin's words hit home. "H-How?" he stutters out and curses at his inability to speak properly.

There's a shuffling noise from behind him, and Thorin slowly turns around to see Dwalin standing close with a hard look and his arms crossed. "He's not an idiot," Dwalin grunts, and Thorin finds himself nodding. “He figured it out himself. We've all underestimated just how educated he is. He knows a surprising amount of dwarven culture." Dwalin pauses to glance back at Bilbo briefly, and Thorin shifts uncomfortably. "His mother taught him a lot. She'd tell him stories of dwarves and their Ones, how dwarves became more than just _love sick_ when they accepted a soul connection. You were love sick," Dwalin's smile isn't warm, "ever since you accepted him as your One on that forsaken rock, you've been love sick. I didn't know until Bilbo brought it up, but now I do."

Thorin can't think of anything to say. He just stands in stunned silence as Dwalin takes a few menacing steps forward to tower over him.

"Which is why," Dwalin grits out through clenched teeth that has Thorin wincing, "I don't understand why you chose the Arkenstone over your _One_."

"I-" but Thorin cuts himself off as he understands _why_ Dwalin is so angry. 

Fundin had raised his children to be tools of the Durin's. Thorin knows this. His father had calmly explained it to Thorin when he was young and Dwalin had first turned up carrying a sword too big for his body and a fierce glare. He also knows that Fundin taught them every conservative and traditional way possible, and he knows that in Fundin's teaching was the expectations of Ones.

He had smitten his own honour by casting Bilbo to the side, and in doing so he'd struck a disastrous blow on Dwalin himself. Dwalin, who believes honor to be _everything_.

"The gold sick-"

"Do not use _gold sickness_ as an excuse," Dwalin thunders, and for once Thorin wishes he'd placed boundaries when they were younger instead of treating Dwalin like an equal. Maybe then he wouldn't be so terrified of Dwalin's wrath. "You betrayed your _One_. I don't…" Dwalin trails off with a huff before he leans back from Thorin's space and runs a hand over his face. "I betrayed Ori some hours ago by being in disagreement on the matter of _you_. And it feels like a fire is crawling through my veins in vengeance."

"Dwalin-"

"I haven't accepted Ori as my One yet," Dwalin points out, "and yet I feel like I could throw myself from a cliff and it would hurt less. And yet, here you stand like your _betrayal_ hasn't affected you?"

"It has!” Thorin finally snaps as he interrupts Dwalin. “Oh, Mahal, it _is_. I can feel in my bones: this _ache_ that I have done something wrong, something I cannot make up for. My head throbs as if there are a thousand hammers pounding at it in a steady tempo _reminding me_ how much wrong I have done.” Thorin takes a shaky step forward to stand in Dwalin's space. "Do not think I have come from this lightly," he growls. "I know I have done wrong. I know that my mistakes are ones not likely to be forgiven, but that does not mean that I will not _try_ to atone for my misdeeds. Do not let your… your _hatred_ for me blind you from the fact that I will try my best to succeed in earning Bilbo Baggins’ forgiveness."

"And if he dies?"

Thorin feels ice cold at the thought of Bilbo no longer breathing, no longer having a chance for life, and he shudders as he glances up at Dwalin. "Be it on my head," he croaks out, surprised at the way his voice trembles and cracks, but Dwalin's expression doesn't change.

Somehow he finds the energy to turn away from Dwalin's cold silence, and he weakly calls out for Nori's aid. He can't feel much of his legs now. His ruined arm is a searing, hot ache and his other hand can barely hold his weight. Luckily Nori appears quickly, glancing between Thorin and Dwalin with wild eyes, and Thorin _knows_ he has heard the entire exchange.

Nori's shoulder is shoved under his armpit within a flash, jostling his sore arm enough that he lets out a noise of pain, but he takes most of Thorin's weight which he is thankful for.

He has a moment where he watches Dwalin and Nori look at one another, and he wonders when the last time just the _three_ of them were in a room together. But he sees no recognition in Nori's eyes, nothing that gives him away as thinking something similar, and without a word Nori hitches Thorin up a little more and begins to pull him from the room.

"I don't hate you," Dwalin's voice suddenly cuts through the air when they reach the tent entrance. Thorin stumbles to a halt, glancing back to see Dwalin standing with his fists at his sides and head held high.

Well, he thinks as he nods briefly and allows Nori to escort him from the tent, that makes one person who doesn't. 

 

…

 

 

**BALIN POV**

Despite being the political one of Fundin's sons, Balin has never really liked politics. He's found that each and every person he's interacted with is sly and greedy with no qualms about manipulating their way to the top. 

He hates the fact that he's one of them. Thorin has always told him otherwise in an attempt to reassure him that he is _not_ one of those mindless pigs, but it has never stopped the truth. It has never changed the fact that Balin has manipulated and lied, conned people into agreeing to things that suit his own agenda, and has _always_ come out on top. 

So this meeting? Right now? Balin hates it. Thranduil sits to the side with an entourage of elves hovering behind him. He seems uninterested in the arguments, but Balin sees his lips quirk in amusement and his ears twitch every time something new happens. Bard is definitely confused, and Balin almost finds it laughable how out of his depth the human is. It's clear he's never been in a political situation before, and he sits quietly in his chair as he struggles to keep up. It's Dain that Balin dislikes the most right now. He's hovering over the plans of Erebor with a greedy eye as he clearly maps out places to store his Iron Hill dwarves. Balin bristles as Dain clucks his tongue and makes small notes on the map, and after a moment Dain finally looks up at Balin.

"He might no longer be equipped to be a king," Dain's voice cuts into the silence, and Balin is ashamed to admit he jumps at the sudden noise, "who knows if he will succumb to madness once more."

"Oin has declared Thorin to be of sane mind," Balin argues, his hands twisting into fists at his sides, "he will not fall prey to this madness again."

Dain looks calculating as he eyes up Balin. Despite it all, Balin knows this dwarf is a nice man, kind and generous to his people, but he knows of no politician who is not out for his own gain. 

Dain is no different. 

"But what if he does?" Dain stresses. Balin knows he is genuinely concerned for Thorin. After all, Dain did grow up with him when they were young and though the two were never close, they were still _family_. 

He's Balin's family too. He remembers when Nain would bring his son to the Lonely Mountain and Balin would be assigned babysitting duty over Thorin, Dain and Dwalin. The three would cause havoc when they were young, but after a falling out between Fundin and Nain, Balin had rarely seen Dain. 

It makes Balin's nose wrinkle at the idea that two of his cousins are Kings while he is merely a pawn in their games. A willing one at that, but a pawn nonetheless.

"He won't," Balin growls though his gritted teeth, "I have utter faith in the king."

"The king?"

" _My_ king," and Balin glances down at the maps and documents instead of facing Dain's raised eyebrow. He cannot think about his slips ups, he really can't. He has to show Dain that he accepts Thorin as _his_ king.

Lest he allow Dain the chance to slip behind Balin's guard and manipulate him.

Dain doesn't say anything for a while, long enough of a time that Balin glances around to see Bard scratching his head and looking between the two dwarves as if that'l help him understand just what is happening, and Thranduil looks a little more intrigued as he leans forward in his chair to actively watch the 'discussion'. Balin bristles even more at the attention, and he turns back to Dain who's looking at him with quirked lips.

"Are you feeling okay, Balin?" he asks, "you look a little overwhelmed. I understand considering your… stature-"

"It would be unwise to comment on the _stature_ of people," Bard suddenly growls, standing from his seat to look down at Dain. "I myself am nothing more than a peasant."

"But you are a leader," Dain points out, "and respected. Balin is only an advisor-"

"He is the representative of the Dwarves of Erebor," Thranduil drones from his seat, waving his hand loosely in the air as if dismissing them all whilst reclining back in his chair, "and will continue to be until that great oaf they call King is of sound mind to lead his people."

"I would suggest you treat him with _respect_ ," Bard finishes telling Dain, and Balin feels uncomfortable at the Elven King and Bard's defense of him, but he'd watch them grow tired of Dain's manipulativeness throughout the meeting. He was waiting for when they would speak up. It merely makes him uncomfortable it is over him.

"Right, apologies," Dain bows his head in Balin's direction, "it was wrong of me to assume you were feeling overwhelmed."

Balin grits his teeth instead of replying, his hands tightening into fists by his side. He knows its a mistake when he notices Dain glance at them, and he realizes that Dain now knows just how to get under Balin's skin.

"Why don't we focus on the reparations?" Bard says into the tense silence, "instead of discussing Thorin's wellbeing. There is nothing we can say on the matter of his leadership until he is fully healed."

"Aye," Balin agrees, "right you are, Bard."

"I disagree," Dain interrupts, "I believe that Thorin's ability to lead is the most important matter at this moment. Who will instruct the Erebor dwarves until he is well and _properly_ declared sane?"

"Fili is already-"

" _Fili_ is as unwell as his Uncle," Dain chides, and Balin feels an anger bubbling inside him, "he is as fit to rule as Thorin."

"You slight the King?" Balin growls as he takes a threatening a step forward, "you offer him _insult_?"

"You would do well to remember who you are addressing," Dain points out and it's the glimmer in Dain's eyes, the successful smug grin that Dain gives him, that has Balin realise this is all just part of Dain's plan to undermine him.

"I-"

"Enough."

The new voice cuts through the room, and Balin turns quickly at seeing Dain's face pale to see none other than Thorin standing by the tent entrance. He looks exhausted with sweat beading his forehead as he leans heavily on a staff… _Gandalf's_ staff. Nori hovers at his shoulder and Balin glares at him because clearly it was _Nori_ who had the guts to steal a wizards staff, before nodding his head at Thorin. Nori only shrugs though and shakes his head, clearly having been unable to stop the King from arriving.

"King Thorin," Bard addresses him first, "shouldn't you be rest-"

"There is no time for such things as rest," Thorin grumbles as he limps into the tent with Nori practically plastered to his back, "not when there are matters to sort out. Such as the question on my sanity."

"We-"

Thorin holds up his hand to cut Dain off as he approaches the table of maps and documents. "You have done a mighty job, Balin," he says as he stops by Balin's side, "and I am afraid I mightn't be able to repay the debt."

"There is no debt to be paid," Balin disagrees as he reaches out to lightly rest his hand on Thorin's shoulder, "I am just glad to see you up and active, although I fear Oin might not agree."

Thorin's laugh makes Balin wince. It's not a happy noise, and the look in Thorin's eyes is cold. Balin isn't stupid. He knows the sight of a grieving man, and he _knows_ that Thorin has been to see Bilbo.

But Thorin doesn't seem to let his pain stop him as he turns to Dain with a fiery temper and proceeds to talk the dwarf back into his place. Bard looks shocked and Thranduil smug, but it's Thorin who draws Balin's attention the most as Thorin holds himself with all the defeat of a broken man.

Balin's heart aches for his king, but he says nothing as he bows his head respectfully and stands to the side. 

 

…

 

 

**FILI POV**

Waking up to a metaphorical shit-fight had never been on Fili's agenda. But apparently it was going to have to be as he limps into Bilbo's tent with Kili at his side, only to see nine dwarves screaming themselves hoarse at one another.

He stands in shock for a moment, Kili as equally still at his side, before his eyes fall to the immobile figure lying on the bed between the squabbling dwarves and he feels his stomach roll unpleasantly.

"Oi!" Kili shouts from beside him. A good thing too as Fili still can't raise his voice loud enough to be heard over this ruckus after being strangled by an orc. "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Nine heads turn to the two of them, and Fili feels a bit unnerved at the sudden attention. He's glad that it's Ori who pushes his way past an intimidating Dwalin to stand before them with his hands on his hips and lips pursed.

"Good to see you're alive," he says before he gently pulls them both into a soft hug, "we thought you might've been goners."

"It'll take more than a few orcs to finish us," Kili jokes, and Ori laughs as he pulls away to grin at them. "Mind telling us what's happening? This wasn't what we were expecting when the healer told us the Company were with Bilbo. Where _is_ Bilbo?"

The silence screams more about Bilbo's body lying on the bed than anything they could've said, and Fili can tell the exact moment that Kili sees Bilbo as he lets out a broken little cry before stagger forward.

"He's _dead_?" he asks the quiet dwarves, and Fili struggles to limp to his brothers side. Each step is like a knife up his thigh, the split muscles not working and the full muscles overworking. Luckily Bombur is by his side after seeing his struggle and pulls him to Kili without a moments hesitation, and Fili lets out a sigh of relief as he sinks onto the foot of the bed.

"Don't be silly, Kili," Fili gently chastises as he reaches out to place a hand on Kili's arm, "his chest is moving. He's clearly still alive. In fact, Oin?" He looks around for the older dwarf and sees him hovering beside Nori. "Oin, could you please…?"

"He's in a coma," Oin says as he moves forward to stand by Bilbo, "and I am uncertain at this time if he is to wake."

He can see Kili's expression falling darker and darker at Oin's words as the older dwarf starts to give them a report, and Fili feels so much _heavier_ as the realisation that Bilbo… Bilbo is possibly _dying_. He remembers seeing the hobbit fall under the bulk of a goblin, the desperate scream of Bilbo's as he'd fought. But the last thing he remembers was seeing Dwalin roar as he'd surged towards Bilbo before Fili had gone down with a sword in his leg, hands around his throat and fading eyesight. 

Fili knows that he isn't guilty. There was nothing he could've done different. But _Kili_? He can already see him starting to look guilty, and he knows that Kili has never been good with guilt. The tendency to lash out is strong in his brother and he doesn't look forward to finding out whoever his brother will blame for this.

The odds-" Oin starts, but Fili shakes his head.

"Bilbo has beaten the odds before," he says determinedly, "many times. This will be no different. I am sure of it."

Oin looks uncertain but eventually nods and moves away after smoothing down the bandage wrapped around Bilbo's head. Fili glances at Kili out of the corner of his eye and sees Kili's eyes watering as he looks at Bilbo. He has half a mind to order out the Company to allow Kili some privacy, _himself_ some privacy but chooses against it and settles for squeezing Kili's arm reassuringly.

"Dwalin," he calls, and instantly the large dwarf is standing in front of him. "How is Uncle?" he asks, "we went via his tent but he wasn't there. Some Iron Hill dwarf told us he is already in council with Dain."

Dwalin says nothing. He just stands still with his mouth partially open, and Fili doesn't think he misses the panic flitter across Dwalin's face. "I…" he starts to say, "I wouldn't know."

"You what?" Kili asks as he looks up from Bilbo, "you don't _know_? How can you not know? In fact why aren't you with him right now? You and Balin are always with him in council aren't you? Why-"

"Kili, stop," Fili commands, and Kili drops silent only to glare at Dwalin. Fili reaches up to rub his temples before he also turns to look at Dwalin. "Kili is right though," he says, "why _aren't_ you with Thorin?"

"Because Thorin is a fool," Dori suddenly says, stepping forward to stand beside Dwalin, "it is his fault that Bilbo was put in harms way. It was out of loyalty to Thorin that Bilbo was in that battle. If Thorin hadn't of cast Bilbo aside then this wouldn't have happened. Thorin is unfit to-"

"You _still_ slander our king?" Ori interrupts as he storms forward to stand chest to chest with Dori.

"He is not _my_ king."

Those five words seem to open up a flood gate, and Fili watches in horror as the Company erupts back into screaming at one another. He glances down at Kili to see his stunned look staring back at him, and he turns to see just _what_ is happening.

It appears that Dori, Gloin, Bifur and _Dwalin_ are against Thorin, all of them yelling at Ori, Bofur and Bombur who still call Thorin their king. Nori is sitting quietly in the corner, and Fili knows that Nori is often neutral on everything, but by the looks of it he does seem to be more inclined to agree with his younger brother. Oin on the other hand has already left the tent, clearly not wanting a bar of whatever is happening, and Fili has half a mind to join him.

"Enough!" he ends up shouting, and he feels Kili jump beside him. Not unusual really, considering Fili _rarely_ raises his voice. He hates doing so, especially now as it hurts his throat and leads to a coughing fit. Kili rubs his back gently as Fili chokes on his spit briefly, before he pulls back with his head throbbing to see the Company looking at him in horror.

"Are you alright, laddie?" Bofur asks, and Fili waves him off as he rubs his temples.

"You mustn't fight," he says after a moment, "especially over something so _trivial._ Why you are blaming Thorin for Bilbo's condition I don't know, but you are all being ridiculous."

"Fili-" Ori starts, but Fili raises a hand to cut him off.

"Out," he orders, "all of you out. Kili and I would like a moment to ourselves with Bilbo."

There's a few mutters, but all of the dwarves end up shuffling out with their heads down. Fili instantly relaxes back onto the bed, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath before he looks down at Bilbo.

He doesn't look completely awful. He's quite banged up with a few bruises and cuts, and there's a bandage wrapped around his head that's a bit darker than his pale skin, but he's completely motionless and that's what frightens Fili the most. He's never seen Bilbo so still.

"I don't think either of us anticipated waking up to this," Kili says as he arranges himself on the floor. Fili smiles down at him, eyes lingering on Kili's right hand hanging limply from it's dressing before he focuses on his brother's face. 

"I thought our loyalties to one another would've won out over any cause," Fili agrees, "but I see now that I was wrong. I understand the need for a scapegoat, but using Uncle as one? Ridiculous."

"You think so?" Kili asks, and it's something in his voice that has Fili stiffening in his seat. "I believe they might be right. If it hadn't of been for Uncle then this wouldn't have happened."

"Kili-" he starts to say as a warning. Here it comes. Here comes the guilt that Kili clearly feels, and this time it looks like he's blaming their _Uncle_ instead of himself.

"Think about it, Fee," Kili continues as if Fili hadn't even spoken, and he glances up at Fili with wide eyes, "we both know that Bilbo definitely had more than just friendly feelings for Thorin. Thorin probably even knew as well because lets face it, Bilbo wasn't exactly subtle. And then he cast Bilbo out! Banished him! All because Bilbo went against his commands."

"He was under the influence of _gold sickness_ , Kili."

"It's not like he had to be!" Kili argues back, and Fili stares at him like he's gone crazy.

"Do you ever choose to get a cold or the flu?" he demands, and when Kili shakes his head he continues, "because those are _sicknesses_. Uncle didn't have a choice. It's called gold sickness for a reason, Kee."

"But he still made a choice," Kili continues, and he stands up to stare down at Fili, "he chose gold over Bilbo. He chose riches and _greed_ over us!"

"You're being foolish."

"And you're being delusional. You've always thought the sun shines out of Uncle's ass. You've always tried to be _just_ like him-"

" _Kili_."

"Honestly!" Kili snaps, and he throws his useful hand in the air, "you think Thorin is so _perfect_. When are you ever going to grow your own spine and stop trying to be him?"

"When are you ever going to grow up?" Fili shouts back, and his throat hurts from raising his voice and his thigh aches as he stands up to stare right back at Kili. "When are you going to stop being such a _child_?"

"When are you going to stop trying to be my father!" Kili screams, and Fili physically stumbles at the words that seem so _random_. "Ever since he died, ever since you inherited his twin swords you've decided that _you_ are the man of the house!"

"I have not!" Fili denies loudly, "and I inherited those swords because that was my _style_ , Kili. I worked with twin swords just like him. Why do you hold so much resentment over that?"

"Because you are always the important one!" Kili cries, and there are actual tears on his cheeks that make Fili cringe. "You're the heir and I'm just the _spare_! You were father's favourite, and mother's pride and joy. Uncle Thorin has always treated you better," he gasps, " _always_. I've never been able to measure up to you."

"You're _wrong_ ," Fili snaps, "you're so wrong, Kili. Father and Mother have loved us both equally our entire lives. Uncle Thorin has always treated you as fairly as myself. He gave you his _bow_ when you came of age to earn a weapon. He taught you to use it. He has so much faith in your abilities. He-"

"Is the reason that I have lost feeling in my arm!" Kili interrupts, "my _drawing_ arm! Now what use am I?"

"It was the Orc who broke the bone and sent it through the muscle, and you know that! It was not Uncle's fault!" 

"If he had just seen _reason_ rather than be greedy and foolish-"

"Will you just _shut up_ -"

"Stop defending him!"

"You're wrong!' Fili finally yells despite the screaming protest of his abused throat, "you think you know everything but you know _nothing_! Thorin has not betrayed us! _You_ are the one who is betraying Thorin!"

He doesn't anticipate the shove that Kili gives him, and he doesn't have time to shift his weight to his good leg before there is a searing pain ripping through his thigh and he topples to the ground. He sees the regret on Kili's face as soon as he hits the ground with a scream, his hand scrambling to hold together his thigh as stitches bust and his other hand claws at his throbbing throat. Tears sting his eyes. Tears for more than the pain as he thinks of Bilbo, Thorin, Kili, the Company. Everything falling apart.

"I'm sorry," Kili mumbles as he starts to kneel by Fili's side. But Fili shakes his head and holds up his hand from his neck.

"Fuck off," he hisses, the pain ripping through his body, " _fuck off_."

He hears Kili's gasp and watches his face turn into an angry glare before he leaves the tent, but he doesn't care as he curls in on himself cries. Cries and cries until his head pounds and he can't breathe.

 

_..._

 

**_end of part one_ **


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much on your responses for the first part of this! I burst into tears frankly at how amazing you have all been, so thank you very much <3
> 
> Now, today I watched the BOTFA movie and I'm not gonna lie, I cried for pretty much all of it. It's gonna break all of your hearts. I'm staying away from spoilers though until my delightful friends have seen it as well, but I am around on [my tumblr](http://resacon1990.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to sob with me!
> 
> I was just going to say though that my characterization of Dain is completely different than in the film, so I'm officially labeling this as a crazy AU.
> 
> Also, if you find any mistakes then go ahead and point them out :) I gave up with editing properly halfway through when it hit 10:30pm and I was dead inside from being emotionally bloody destroyed.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: Alcohol Abuse, Time-skip**

_**Two Weeks Later...** _

**OIN POV**

"Contusion on the eye has faded to a yellow. Gashes on the left corner of the mouth, split lip, and the tooth sized wounds on the tongue have healed with only a minor scarring to the skin near the left corner his mouth. Will possibly go with time."

Oin tisks at that. It's a pity that there will be scars left on the patient. It's never pleasant for them to wake up to find their skin marked and mangled. But he chooses not to think more on it as he glances over at the dwarf scrambling to keep up with Oin's dictating. The dwarf, Gralf or something, is not as efficient as Ori in note taking, but considering Ori is currently too busy having _another_ debate with Dwalin then Oin must settle for this useless Iron Hill dwarf.

"Are you keeping up or must I replace you?" Oin barks, and he gets a certain feeling of satisfaction when the Gralf jumps and drops the book he's keeping record in, clattering harshly against the stone floor of the infirmary.

"Y-Yes, sir!" he stammers as he surges forward clumsily to pick it up. Oin rolls his eyes as he turns to the patient and moves to cup one arm.

"More scarring on the underside of his right arm," he comments as he rolls the patients arm over, "although laceration have healed neatly. On the palm…" he trails off as he cups the patients hand gently and frowns. "Heavily scarred," he says as he runs his fingers over the lumps created from stab wounds, "possibly won't reduce but will have to review again in another two weeks."

"Would you like me to write that-"

"Everything I say!" Oin snaps as he turns to glare at Gralf, "those were your instructions. You write down _everything_ I say, understood?"

He doesn't even wait for a confirmation as he reaches for the left arm. The skin is perfect outside of a few silvery lines and the palm is significantly less damaged than the right palm with only a few obvious lines across the arches of the thumb. Oin says it all out-loud, wondering if the moron is keeping up, before he moves down to the hips.

"Wound to the hip has yet to heal," he mutters and he feels Gralf move forward to hear him better, "will need to replace the bandages more often than once a day. Stitches are still intact and have no damage. Will also have to review in two weeks," he glares at Gralf, "and _yes_ , write that down. Swelling has lessened around the entry to the wound although bruising has occurred and is a vivid purple. Skin appears to be not infected. Full recovery for the hip wound is likely."

"Sir? _Infected_?"

"Yes, Gralf," Oin hisses as he glares at him over the patient's body, "infected. Make sure you know how to spell it."

Gralf flushes a furious red and continues scribbling in his notebook as Oin rolls his eyes and turns to the patient's lower hips.

"Swelling of contusions on the lower hips have reduced," he says as he taps at the yellowing patches. No reaction from the patient though, and he tuts as he moves down to run his hands down the patient's legs. "Abrasions healed along the left leg, still minor scabs on the right leg shin. Right ankle still bruised and," he pauses to twist the ankle a few times only to meet resistance, "and still unmovable. Not broken, but definitely with twisted ligaments."

"Ligaments, sir?"

"Honestly, next time give me a bloody dwarf who actually knows _anatomy_ ," Oin groans as he covers his face before gesturing at Gralf. "Get over here you useless lump," he snaps, "help me move the patient over."

"Isn't he a friend of yours?" Gralf asks as he stumbles over and helps Oin to turn the patient onto his front, "shouldn't you call him by his name?"

"You know Dain said you were the one student of his healers with the most potential," Oin comments as he pulls back the bandages on the patients back. Gralf preens across from him, looking completely smug. "I can see that Dain is not only greedy, but _stupid_ as well."

Gralf looks suitably put in his place, and Oin grins to himself as he pulls away the last bandage. "Laceration across the the back still beginning to fester," he mutters as he reaches out for a rag that Gralf helpfully supplies, "possible signs of infection. Swelling has made it appear larger. Skin a flushed red. Will have to review in another two weeks but will arrange for bandages to be change thrice daily. All small wounds surrounding have healed and left behind no trace."

"Will there be much scarring overall?"

Oin glances up to see the young dwarf actually looking interested, and he sighs as he wipes his hands on the rag. "Already there is scar tissue on the right palm and left corner of the mouth," he says, "on the underside of the right arm is more scars but those should fade much like the ones on his mouth. There will be a large scar on his hip from the stab wound he received, although it will also fade to silver. The scar that will be on his back will unfortunately remain protruding from his back due to the infection. His head," Oin stops as he reaches forward to look at the back of the patients head where the white bandage still has spots of red despite two weeks of regular changing, "his head will remain uncertain for a while to come."

Gralf nods his head along as he writes it all down. He's a good lad, Oin admits, although too much of a know-it-all.

"Head wound is still weeping but no longer shows threats of infection," Oin continues after a moment of silence and after pulling away the bandage covering the patients head, "swelling has reduced. Skin still inflamed but will go down in time." He frowns as he leans in closer to gently prod at the wound. "No sight of bone anymore which shows the tissue has begun to heal. Cleaning and re-bandaging of the wound needs to be decreased to only once every two days instead of each day so as to stop spotting."

"Why does the spotting still occur if he is healing?"

"Wound agitation," Oin explains as he covers the patients head once more and gestures for Gralf to move forward to help him move the patient back onto his back. "His head is moved about when the bandage is changed which arouses the nerves and cells until a few drops of blood leak. It will stop when the laceration is further along in the healing process."

Gralf appears to have more questions but Oin bristles and shakes his head. He is tired now. He's done his job and now he would just like some peace. He should definitely be giving the lad a bit more credit when he simply bows his head, hands over the notebook, and then leaves the infirmary, closing the large wooden door as silently as possible behind him.

It shows how exhausted Oin is when he just slumps forward to sit on the patients- _Bilbo's_ bed as soon as Gralf footsteps have faded away. He holds the book tight in his trembling hands as he stares down at his lap.

"I must be getting too old," he says aloud as he looks at his shaking hands, "or maybe the horrors of war and healing are finally catching up to me. I've never been so shaky before." He looks down at Bilbo's silent face. "Or maybe it's because it's you who's life is on the line and not another nameless face with no meaning."

Of course there's no reply, and Oin sighs as he clenches his hands around the leather of the book. He's read hundreds of theories that coma patients can hear what people say to them, but the lack of response is disheartening.

Nonetheless, Oin had promised a tearful Fili that he would update Bilbo on the situation. A neutral source, Fili had said, and Oin had nearly scoffed aloud at Fili's ridiculous request and reasoning. But the lad needs support and it's Oin's job to care for the sick no matter what kind of sickness it is.

"Thorin's gone mad," he mumbles after a while, "not mad with sickness but mad with grief. He blames himself for your state. Not that some of the company are helping, especially Dwalin who is meant to be his most loyal companion. The King is working himself into a grave trying to right his wrongs, all in the name of you." Oin snorts as he reaches over to move a stray hair from Bilbo's face. "I don't blame you. What's done is done. But it would be a hell of a lot easier if you just woke up, Bilbo Baggins."

There's no reply. Of course there isn't. Oin's hand drops away and he smiles to himself sadly.

"You've been in a coma for two weeks now," he says, "and it's been a busy two weeks. You've even been moved into the Erebor infirmary now that some of the repairs are underway on the mountain. The elves have returned to their forest, Bard has taken his humans to Dale to begin a reconstruction effort. He believes that maybe one day they'll rebuild Esgaroth, but for now him and Thorin are aiding each other in repairs. Dain still loiters, but I doubt he will leave for a while to come. He is still adamant that Thorin might not be of sound mind… no one is."

He pauses to roll his shoulder before beginning to speak about the company. "Balin is trying to keep up with Thorin to no avail, and Fili is struggling along behind him. Both are the ones really keeping the kingdom _together_. Thorin plows through everything with no regard. He only does what is needed to build up this kingdom once more, but the people? Thorin seems to be so wrapped up in his own grief that he can't even _admit_ to feeling that he is forgetting that the rest of the kingdoms are grieving as well."

He sighs and rubs his hand over his face.

"He cannot bear to see you. He says it is too painful." Oin grimaces at his hands. "I cannot blame him. Although Dwalin is here every day. So much so that Nori has taken up his mantel as personal bodyguard to Thorin, something none of us believed we would ever see. Whether I mean Dwalin leaving Thorin's side willingly or Nori stepping up to responsibility is anybodies guess," he snorts and shakes his head at the thought. "Bofur comes by often when he is not inspecting the foundations and rooms of Erebor with his brother, or sidling up to Nori. Bifur has disappeared. Undoubtedly overtaken with anger. He still blames both yourself and Thorin for this mess we're all in."

Oin doesn't make a comment about how he agrees more with Bifur than anyone else. 

"Ori still fights with Dwalin more than anything else," he continues as he taps his fingers rhythmically against the leather cover of the book. "For Ones they fight more than any on this earth. I worry for their tether to one another. I understand that Dwalin has not accepted the tie yet, but Ori has and one sided affections have never lasted long. The last thing we need is more heartbreak from two people who have no reason to be fighting." He grimaces at the thought of Ori fading away at with Dwalin not accepting the bond. It's unpleasant to think about and Oin hates it. "My brother… he can't differ between you and his son, I believe. He despises Thorin for his actions, but I believe he sees **_his wife_** lying where you are. Not you."

He reaches out to tuck in the blanket Ori had made Bilbo during one of his stress knitting sprees, and hums in thought. He remembers Gloin's face at seeing his wife suffer through child birth, and he still sees it now when his brother gazes upon Bilbo. It hurts his chest to think of such things, and he grits his teeth before continuing.

"Dori no longer acknowledges Nori. Thinks he is a disgrace to their name and line. He barely even talks to Ori now since Ori's defiance of him." He stops to smile sadly at Bilbo, "but that is the effect of grief isn't it?"

It's a testament to his lack of sanity when he sees Bilbo's finger twitch. Or at least he thinks he does. His head feels heavy, his eyes blurry, and honestly he's just so so tired now.

"Fili and Kili are no longer speaking. Kili spends more time wallowing in his grief and guilt than he should. Fili," Oin smiles and it for once feels genuine on his face, "Fili would make you proud. As I said, he's trying to keep the fragile fabric of the Kingdom together while Thorin blindly plods along. Neither really know what they're doing. It's been a long time since Thorin has had to rule a kingdom, and not lead nomads."

He stands up with the book still tightly held in his grasp, and he shuffles forward to stand by Bilbo's head. He drops his hand down to smooth over the bandage, a habit he's fallen into, and he grimaces at Bilbo's clammy skin as his thumb brushes Bilbo's hair from his face.

And for a moment, for a _moment_ Oin realises that there is no one around. That there is no one to see his normal cold and professional demeanor drop.

"Wake up, Bilbo," he murmurs into the silence, "please wake up soon. I don't believe that our company will last much longer without you. We're falling apart, and no one knows how to pick up the pieces."

 

…

 

 

**NORI POV**

It's been two weeks and Nori is over being exposed to Thorin's life.

His own life has been one of deceit, lies, violence **,** and horror. Thorin's is similar **,** but never in Nori's life has there been the fate of hundreds of dwarves resting on his every decision. Nori is tired of watching Thorin's jaw clench as he looks at documents with Dain breathing down his neck and _questioning every little thing._ He's lost count of the amount of times Balin has rested a hand on his arm to stop him from charging forward and taking a piece out of Dain for asking Thorin once again if he is "feeling of sound mind".

He's compromised instead by hovering in the shadowy corners of the meeting halls and playing with his knives. Occasionally Thorin must catch a flash of his weapons, but he says nothing as he just gives Nori a hard look and turns back to whatever diplomat from whatever clan it is this time who is questioning Thorin's sanity. Of course, in their very subtle and nasty way, and Nori feels so much like Dwalin with how irritated he is with political games.

He only put his foot down though when an Iron Hill dwarf approached him holding a sum of money and an explanation that one of the Stiffbeard politicians wanted information on Thorinand considering Nori's _lack_ of loyalty in the past… 

Nori has no regrets about taking the money and cutting the dwarf's beard from his chin for the slander he had spoken against him. He still contemplates sneaking into the Stiffbeard's room and removing the dwarf's beard as well, but he knows that the blame would land on Thorin. He can't do that to Thorin, no matter how foolish he think **s** the King is.

He's thankful that Thorin understood his need to escape for a while after Nori had told him what had happened.It had hurt to see Thorin's face pale at the news of the acts of  the Stiffbeard, especially considering their power amongst the clans, before he'd tried to reassure Nori with a gentle pat and smile. It hadn't reached his eyes though, and Nori's stomach had rolled unpleasantly as he'd left the throne room and made his way through the halls towards the infirmary.

The halls are cluttered and filled to the brim with dwarves and humans alike. Dain's dwarves do their jobs well, and Nori is thankful to him for at least assisting in the rebuilding process, and Bard's humans are strong and hardy despite their craftsmanship not being up to dwarven standards. Nori spots a few of the company amongst them, Bombur calling orders, Gloin lugging around stone, Dori holding up an archway as humans reinforce it. They all look miserable though, and Nori understands why.

It's not just Bilbo who has been ripped from them. It's the camaraderie and companionship of the company that hadleft along with the hobbit's consciousness. Even Nori feels an ache where Bilbo had once heldtheir company together with pessimistic words and sarcastic jokes. Despite being cynical though, Bilbo had been their keystone holding them together.

The Ur family would've remained on the outer-circle of their company if Bilbo hadn't joined and bonded them all together. Even Nori's family wouldn't have been as much included as they were. Bilbo defied the class restrictions between the dwarven families and drew them all together.

The halls around the infirmary are thankfullyempty of workers, and Nori no longer has to constantly sidestep to avoid a pole to his stomach. He walks quietly along until he reaches the infirmary door where Dwalin is apparently standing guard once again. Although this time he notes Dwalin has moved from Bilbo's door to this one, but he doesn't question it.

"Do you ever sleep?" Nori asks as he moves past the bulky dwarf to push open the door, and Dwalin's snort makes Nori pause.

"Do _you_ ever sleep?" he retorts, and Nori glances at him to see Dwalin glaring daggers back, "or are you always too busy crawling up the King's ass?"

"Someone has to," Nori shoots backs, "considering the one man he's always trusted to protect him has betrayed him."

"I haven't-"

"Don't lie to me, Dwalin," he snaps and Dwalin lets out a growl as he steps forward to grab Nori's shirt. In a flash Nori's hands are on his knife hilts as he draws them out and catches Dwalin's meaty wrist between the blades before kicking out a leg to draw Dwalin's knee forward and cause the large dwarf to hit the ground in a kneel.

"What-"

"Take one more move, take it **,** and I will not hesitate to remove your hand from your wrist," Nori sneers as he tightens his grip on his knives. He hears Dwalin's small exhale of pain as the blades press harder against his skin.

Dwalin wisely chooses to say nothing. Instead Nori visibly sees Dwalin swallow as he stares at his pinned wrist. Nori frowns as he glances down, and he winces at seeing thathis blades have cut through the soft flesh on the sides of Dwalin's wrist.There is a small trail of blood running down flesh and steel. Instantly Nori feels a rush of adrenaline followed by a cold and _sick_ feeling at the realisation he's hurt one of the company, that he's hurt _Dwalin_ , and he quickly pulls away his knives to stumble back in shock.

As soon as his knives are away **,** Dwalin clutches his wrist to his chest and levels Nori with a glare. "Nice move, thief," is all he says before he turns and enters the infirmary.

Nori is left standing in shock as the door closes behind Dwalin. He can't deny the thrill he got from the minor conflict, and he knows right then and there that he is not cut out for this. He's not good to keep as a guard for the king. He's used to excitement and threats to his life at all times of the day. He struggles not to think about what would've happened if Dwalin had indeed made another move as he was right to do so.

He ignores his pounding heart as he too moves through the infirmary doors. Dwalin is nowhere to be seen **,** but Nori doesn't care as he moves along the doors of the infirmary rooms before stopping at Bilbo's. He doesn't knock, there shouldn't be anyone in the room, but clearly he is wrong as he pushes open the door and hears the soft cries of none other than Bofur.

His already frayed nerves are set alight again as he stops in the doorway when he sees Bofur sitting on a stool and hunched over Bilbo's body. There's no one else in the room, and Nori is thankful for the privacy, but unfortunately it means that Bofur instantly looks up at the new noise and turns to stare at Nori.

It makes Nori wince to see Bofur's eyes bloodshot and his face blotchy, and he sees no way out of the situation as he reluctantly shuts the door.

"Hey," he says softly into the silence, and he leans back against the door in the hopethat it'll hold him up. Bofur doesn't say anythingand continues to stare for a moment longer before he turns back to Bilbo. Nori can see Bofur's hat lying beside Bilbo's prone body on the bed, and for some reason it makes his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

Seeing Bofur broken like this, with his prized _hat_ discarded… it shows Nori just how bad things have gotten. He knows that the company has fallen, but he hadn't realised that they had all individually fallen as well.

He wonders where the other Ur's are, and he curses himself for not spending more time with Bofur. He'd promised him weeks ago that he would be Bofur's sounding board and the one he could go to for comfort. He doesn't really know why he promised that. Clearly he can't keep his promises either considering the broken Bofur in front of him is evidence enough.

He takes a couple of hesitant steps forward but freezes once more when Bofur's voice rings out.

"I don't understand why we've all fallen apart without Bilbo," he says softly **.** “We were fine before we met him. What changed?"

What changed? Everything.Nori thinks that _everything_ has changed. Bilbo changed each and every one of them in so many ways. He helped Thorin from the pit he'd crawled into in a desperate attempt to escape his past. He gave Balin and Dwalin hope for their lost Kingdom and friend. He gave Ori a friend who didn't judge him for his un-dwarven like interests. He gave them _hope_ in so many ways…. and now it has been ripped from them.

"He made us better," Nori explains as he moves forward to stand beside Bofur **.** “He strengthened us and gave us something to aim for. We started this journey as a group of dwarves from various backgrounds all determined to follow a future king **’** s cause. Thorin was our only common interest, our only connection. We would never have lasted as long as we have without Bilbo there to strength our ties to one another."

He looks down at the frail hobbit. Bilbo looks so small on his bed, so pale and fragile, and Nori's fist clenches.

"We never would've been friends if it hadn'thave been for Bilbo," he says past a lump in his throat. "I'm a fallen noble with a past that haunts me. You are a miner with the innocence of an honest and hard-working man," he pauses to smile at Bofur, "and yet here we stand. Do you remember how we first started talking?"

"Bilbo asked about what kind of stone are precious to dwarves," Bofur murmurs after a moment **,** and he smiles up at Nori **.** “You thought you knew more than me even though you _steal_ gems and I mine them."

"I would know considering I steal the _precious_ ones," Nori scoffs, and Bofur chuckles as he continues to smile up at Nori. 

Nori can't stop himself from smiling back. Bofur's eyes are still bloodshot and he can see tears once again welling in the corners, but it doesn't dull the bright blue nor the small smile lingering on Bofur's lips. Nori can't stop himself from reaching forward and cupping Bofur's cheek lightly, his thumb stroking over Bofur's cheekbone and his heart thumps madly when Bofur leans into his touch.

"I miss him," Bofur says quietly into the silence, and Nori's chest squeezes tightly as he takes a step forward and crushes Bofur to his stomach. He can feel Bofur's hands come up to grab the back of Nori's shirt and bundle it in his fists as small sobs rip from Bofur's throat.

"I know," Nori hushes as he wraps an arm around Bofur's shoulder and the other starts to glide through Bofur's hair. "I know."

 

…

 

**FILI POV**

"I don't understand. What do you mean _impossible_?"

Bombur takes a deep breath across from Fili, and Fili knows that **’** s a sign that he is most certainly not going to like what he will hear. He forces himself to not saying anything though and settles his weight onto his good leg as he waits patiently for Bombur to speak.

"The stairs…" Bombur starts **,** but he pauses to swallow and doesn't meet Fili's eyes, "the stairs are too steep for your leg, your highness."

"Don't call me that, Bombur," Fili sighs as he pats Bombur on the shoulder. "It is Fili to you **,** and it always will be." He glances at the stairs leading up in front of them, and he does wince when he sees how _steep_ they really are and at the pain he will no doubt feel in his leg when he climbs them.

No matter, he thinks. He must do this. He _has_ to. Being weak is not an option. He can't help his uncle if he is _weak_ , he can't help his kingdom or his friends. He can't help anyone.

"Fili-"

"I can do this Bombur," Fili growls as he limps forward towards the banister **.** "I am not an invalid."

"I never said you were," Bombur replies as he hurries forward **,** and Fili feels Bombur's palm rest on his back, "but I am saying that it mightn't be safe for you to walk on your unhealed leg. Oin will have a fit if you fall and stop the  healing process, if you _aggravate_ it more and-"

" _Bombur_ ," Fili interrupts and he turns to glare at the worried dwarf, "how am I supposed to oversee repairs of Erebor if I cannot even climb the stairs to the next level?"

"We could arrange a pulley-"

"I will not dishonor myself in such a way!" Fili cries, and Bombur looks sufficiently reprimanded. "I will climb these stairs, Bombur," he says after a deep breath, "and if you would like to help me then it would be much appreciated. But I cannot show weakness at such a time like this."

Bombur still looks reluctant, but Fili chooses not to argue as he turns to the stairs and takes a hesitant step forward.

It doesn't hurt as much as it _aches_ along his thigh. It doesn't deter him though, and he straights up as he takes the next four stairs in quick succession.

It's when he gets to the fifth stair that there is a spark of pain that has him gasping. He automatically reaches down to grip his thigh as if that'll chase it away even though his fingers just dig into the skin and cause more white heat. Bombur comes rushing up behind him, almost knocking Fili over with his enormous bulk, and Fili grits his teeth.

"I'm fine, Bombur," he snaps through them **.** "I am perfectly fine."

"No you're not-"

Fili doesn't let him finish as he pushes himself forward onto the sixth stair. There's twenty in total, and they get steeper and steeper as they go. By the tenth one Fili is panting, each step like a knife up his leg and making him gasp out in pain. By the thirteenth Bombur's hand is on his back again _pushing_ him up and his lungs feel tight and useless in his chest. It's at the sixteenth that Fili feels tears starting to stream down his face as the pain gets worse and worse and he can't _breathe_.

It surprises him when Bombur suddenly scoops him up and takes the last few steps at a jog. He bounces around in Bombur's arms and feels his cheeks starting to burn a bright red at the _humiliation_ he's feeling, but he says nothing as Bombur makes his way down the corridor until he drops Fili down onto a stone bench.

There's still sharp pains roaring up his leg, but he ignores as he thanks Bombur and starts to struggle to his feet. 

"No," Bombur growls as his hands settle on Fili's shoulders and push him back down **.** “You must sit and you must rest, Fili. What you did was beyond stupid."

"Stupid?" Fili snaps **.** “Do you know what else is _stupid_ , Bombur? Everything! _Everything_ is a mess, and you think that I can afford to care about my leg above everything else? Erebor is still falling down around our ears thanks to that dragon, and I can't even muster up the strength to climb to the next floor to check on the reparations. Balin is counting on me because he has to be near Uncle all the time since Uncle is so overtaken with grief that his decision making is too risky. I'm supposed to be _helping_ ," and oh Mahal, he can feel the tears starting to drip down his cheeks, “How can I help the kingdom when I can't even help myself? I'm _useless_ with this limp, and I-"

"Stop," Bombur interrupts him, and Fili falls silent when Bombur's hand covers his mouth **.** “Stop right now. You are being _foolish_ , Fili. An injury is nothing to be ashamed of. It's not shameful to ask for help, and it's good to know your own limits. Pushing yourself during your recuperation period does more harm than good."

"But-"

"You need to get it together," Bombur continues on as if Fili hadn't spoken around his palm **.** “Yes, there ha **ve** been heavy losses and you're possibly permanently injured. And yes, _Bilbo_ becoming unwell has shaken us all to the core and put a lot more responsibility on us all than we were prepared for.But that doesn't mean that you can be _selfish_. Everything is falling apart, Fili, and pulling stunts like the one you did just did doesn't make _anything_ better."

Fili can feel the weight oh his shoulders lifting a little, but he still squeezes his eyes shut against the words. "What if they don't respect me?" he ends up asking, and Bombur's hands tighten on his shoulders.

"You're not proving anything by making your life difficult, Fili," he says **.** “In fact **,** you're hurting yourself more. Dwarves respect a dwarf who knows when to stop. You must learn."

It's such a bizarre thing to hear from Bombur, but it's also perfect to hear from Bombur, and Fili sniffs as he glances up to give Bombur a watery smile.

"What happened to the jolly, cheerful and quiet Bombur I know?" Fili asks and Bombur pats his cheek softly and squeezes his shoulder as he pulls away.

"You forget, Fili," Bombur says softly, "I'm also a father."

Fili's mouth drops into a small 'o' shape, and Bombur just gives him a smile before he holds out his hand. 

"Come on," he says, "I will help you. But remember your _limits._ We will observe this level **,** and then we will go to Oin and see what he can do for the strain on your leg."

"I-"

"No arguments, Fili. The kingdom might be falling," Bombur says seriously as he helps Fili to his feet and shoulders his weight, "but you do not have to go down with it."

Fili stares at Bombur in amazement for a long moment, surprised at how generous and kind this dwarf is, and he smiles as he drops his head onto Bombur's shoulder for just a moment.

"Thank you, Bombur," he says, and Bombur just smiles in response.

 

…

 

**THORIN POV**

Thorin isn't naive. He knows that everyone doubts his sanity. Hell, even _he_ doubts his sanity. He second guesses every decision he makes and even sometimes doesn't go through with them because he's just _so darn paranoid_.

But he is a king, and kings mustnever show weakness.

He's in the middle of a meeting again, one of the hundreds he is constantly going too. He stands with his arms spread on the war table, and his head hangs between his shoulders as **,** once more **,** Dain and Balin battle it out in front of him to see who is right about _whatever_ it is they're discussing. 

Thorin doesn't always listen in these meetings. Ori acts as note taker at the other end of the table and Thorin always asks to read over the notes once the meeting is finished. Normally **,** he stands still and takes the time to _think_.

He spends so long making political decisions, organizing the caravans from the Blue Mountain, discussing peace agreements and aiding the humans in their rebuilding of Dale that he barely has any time to think for himself. Even now, Bard stands at his side **,** and Thorin can see him itching to ask him something, and he knows that as soon as he raises his head then Bard will do so.

He doesn't want to raise his head. He wants to stand still and think about the company, about this nephews, his sister, _Bilbo_ , everything that he never has time for **,** but Balin is calling out his name with a determination that makes Thorin clench his teeth as he reluctantly looks up.

" _Thorin_ ," Balin growls again until Thorin looks at him to see the old dwarf pursing his lips as he gestures at Dain, "we need a decision on the land the Iron Hills will inherit as reward."

"And we need it now," Dain continues as he shoots Balin a glare **.** “Preferably so if it is in a place needing repairs **,** then we can organize that quickly." 

Or why doesn't he just _not_ take any land and be a generous person, Thorin thinks bitterly to himself. He glances out of the corner of his eye to see Bard watching him with a contemplative look before he sighs.

"I cannot make this decision now," Thorin declares as he straightens up and fixes both Dain and Balin with glares **.** “As you well know **,** it is an important decision **,** and I am unable to decide without considering the appropriate path for my people."

"But-"

"That is enough, Balin," Thorin growls and Balin bows his head **.** “Leave us. I will confer with you shortly. Take Ori with you and find Fili for an update on the rebuilding in the west wing. I will expect a full report and notes on this meeting when I send for you in a few hours time."

Balin nods his head as he turns to shuffle out. Thorin does feel bad, he knows how much Dain antagonizes him, but he is tired of their fighting and sending Balin away with Ori is the only easy way to diffuse the situation with causing a _war_.

"As to you, Dain," he does say when the door slams shut and it is only himself, Dain and a still silent Bard in the room, "I understand your people are in need, and that your lands are not as rich as they once were before the Fall of Erebor. But these things mustn't be rushed." He glances over at Dain who looks resigned as he glances at the table.

"We are starving, Thorin," Dain suddenly says, and Thorin frowns as Dain runs a hand over his face. "I have not shared with you the extent of our predicament," he continues after a moment, "but we are in a frightful situation. The men of Lake-Town never saw fit to trade with us so we were only able to rely on what we could create ourselves. Our people are not farmers. We've destroyed more of our land in attempts to grow from it than we have ever done before. What soil we have left is barely managing to grow enough crops for half the population. We're almost out of food and they look to me for guidance. I don't know what else to do other than come to Erebor."

"I understand," Thorin sighs, because he does. He gets it. He knows what it's like to be unable to support your own people, and he understands Dain's plight. "You must simply _ask_ though," he points out, "instead of trying to undermine my stance as King and antagonizing Balin. He is a good dwarf with a strong sense of justice, but you mustn't slight him for his pride is something to fear." He sucks in a deep breath and glances at a curious Bard before he speaks again. "I had a brief moment of madness, that I accept, and there are times when I worry I may slip back into that madness. But for now I am sane, and I am willing to _help_ if only you stop trying to manipulate your way to success."

"I-"

"Dain, we are cousins," Thorin interrupts **.** "I remember us as young children playing pretend and hitting each other with wooden swords and running from our mothers after putting mud in my siblings beds for them to find at night. I _treasure_ those memories above many things, Dain. Do not think that I would allow you and your people to suffer when I still value you as a very dear friend."

Dain looks all but speechless as he slowly nods his head. Thankfully he says nothing more than a thank you before he turns and leaves the room. He feels a sense of relief when the door closes behind the other king, and he closes his eyes as he sighs.

"That was considerate of you."

He jumps at Bard's voice, and he glances wearily over at the human. Bard stands with his arms crossed as he stares down at Thorin, and Thorin feels like he's being judged.

"I forgot you were here," Thorin grudgingly admits as he pushes away from the table and mirrors Bard's stance.

Bard doesn't acknowledge Thorin's words and instead purses his lips. "He has come to Erebor and done nothing but shame you and manipulate you," Bard says, "and yet you are still willing to give him what he wants?"

"I have not given him anything," Thorin disagrees, "I made no such promises to him. Dain may be a harsh man now, but he was never always like this. The hardship he has faced while ruling his kingdom has changed him for the worse. He is more ambitious now, and cruel in his demands rather than the kind negotiator I once knew. This does not mean I am not willing to help."

"He wishes to have Erebor."

"He will not have it."

"And why not?" Bard asks as he moves to stand closer to Thorin and his gaze is intense enough to make Thorin bristle **.** “Why not allow Dain to have some of Erebor's land?"

"Because he did not try to defend it in the first place," Thorin growls and Bard's eyes narrow, "when Smaug came. We sent to the Iron Hills for aid and none came. We went in hopes that they would offer us refuge and they turned us away. I will not treat Dain as we were once treated, but I owe him _nothing_." 

"Was it not his father who made those mistakes though?" Bard points out, and Thorin sighs as he fidgets with his coat.

"Was it not your ancestor, Gillian, who did not slay Smaug?" he asks **.** “And is it not you who still carries the shame of his failure years later?"

Bard doesn't say anything to that. He merely stares at Thorin for a long moment before sighing and relaxing back against the table. His arms drop to his side and he offers Thorin a small smile.

"I do not argue with your position," Bard says **.** "I believe **,** while not the best, you are a good king. You have aided us more than you could possibly think with the reconstruction of Dale."

"I can say the same for you," Thorin mutters and Bard grins as he reaches out to pat Thorin's shoulder. "You are here for a reason," he says after moment **.** "I saw you wished to ask a question earlier. I will answer if you ask now."

Bard hesitates for a moment, and it's enough to have Thorin on guard before Bard asks, “Why do you not see Bilbo?"

Thorin freezes at the words, his body stiffening as his back goes ramrod straight. It's the last thing he'd ever expect from Bard, and he stares at him speechlessly for a moment.

"I…"

"Only, I know of your feelings for him," Bard continues as if Thorin hadn't tired to speak, "and I… I know how it feels to lose a loved-"

"To _lose_?" Thorin interrupts with a glare, "I will not be _losing_ Bilbo Baggins. I have been assured by Oin that he will make a full recovery."

The look that Bard gives him, one of _pity_ , makes Thorin's teeth grit. "Oin also said that Fili would not have a limp for the rest of his life," Bard points out, "and he just admitted he was wrong."

"How do you…" Thorin starts before he sighs. "Kili," he states, "Kili is with you, isn't he? Nori has reported that Kili often leaves early and arrives late. It makes sense that he is constantly going to Dale."

"I try to tell him to go home," Bard insists, "but the boy refuses. He says-"

"I know what he says," Thorin interrupts with a grimace, "I am not a fool. He blames me for Bilbo's condition, they all do."

"Not all," Bard disagrees **.** "Balin speaks highly of you, and I have no doubt that the others are merely hurt. People lash out in their pain and guilt, and you are unfortunately the one they have been cruel to.”

Thorin looks up Bard with a frown. "Why are you saying this?" he asks **.** “Why does it seem like you care?"

"Contrary to popular belief," Bard chuckles as he places his hand once more on Thorn's shoulder and keeps it there, "I don't hate you. You have aided my people more than I believed you would. Whether out of guilt or a strong feeling of justice, I don't care. But you have helped me, and you have helped my people."

"But-"

"You've even decided to aid Dain despite his antagonistic behavior towards you," Bard continues as he squeezes Thorin's shoulder and gives him a haunted smile, "and I don't want to see anyone lose their life partner. I know what it was like to lose a soulmate, to lose a part of you that you can never replace, and I'd hate to see you lose your One, Thorin."

Thorin stands speechless, staring at Bard with wide eyes. He can't… how could he know?

"My wife loved dwarves for some reason," Bard explains when Thorin asks **.** “She taught me many things. She would often refer to me as 'her One'. I never understood, but now I do. Having seen you with Bilbo made me understand."

"Your wife must've been a clever woman," Thorin says, and Bard laughs as he drops his hand from Thorin's shoulder and shoves both into his pockets.

"Aye," he agrees quietly once his laugh has faded, "that she was. I miss her dearly."

For some reason Thorin feels a sense of kinship towards Bard, and he thinks of a small hobbit lying on a bed rooms away. He thinks about how Oin has been wrong before, and he can't help but close his hands into fists as he squeezes his eye shut.

"I can't lose Bilbo," he admits into the silence, "I can't. I've fought too hard and too long. Can't I… can't I have just one piece of happiness in my life?"

Bard looks pained at those words, and he smiles softly and so so sadly down at Thorin, and Thorin hates him as soon as he sees the sympathy on Bard's face.

"The fact that you have to ask," Bard mumbles, "that you have to _ask_ for happiness, is what hurts the most."

Thorin doesn't linger after those words. Doesn't say anything. Just turns on his heel and leaves the throne room in hopes that Bard doesn't see him start to come undone.

 

…

 

**ORI POV**

Truthfully Ori has never been this busy before in his life. Between restoring the Erebor and library, being note-keeper at meetings, still undergoing his apprenticeship with Balin, dealing with the company _and_ Bilbo's undoubtedly worsening conditions, he barely has time to catch a breath. Not that he doesn't like it. Keeping busy means less time to sit around and mope about over things out of his control.

"Ori, are you alright?"

He shoots awake at Balin's concerned tone. Well, he wasn't _really_ asleep, just dozing. He'd been up all night stress knitting for poor Bilbo. A cozy yellow blanket had seemed like a lovely thing to knit the poor hobbit to brighten up his room. It'd also been a good way to fill in the hours he'd allocated himself to sleep in considering he had been too wound up-

" _Ori_."

"Yes, Balin, sorry, sir," Ori yelps as he sits bolt up right and looks at the concerned dwarf. Honestly. There's nothing to be concerned about. It's no big deal to be running on a few hours sleep. Although to be fair 'a few hours sleep' probably didn't cover the three days he's so far been running ragged.

"When was the last time you had some decent sleep?" Balin growls as he steps forward and tips Ori's head back into the light **.** “Your pupils are massive. You haven't been asking Oin for those pick-me-up energy herbs again **,** have you?"

"Um…"

" _Ori_ ," Balin chastises **,** and Ori winces at that tone. Twice in less than forty seconds. That has to be a record.

"Well, he doesn't think they're for me," Ori explains as he bats away Balin's hand. “He thinks they're for Kili and Fili. He understands that the boys sometimes don't sleep and-"

"So what? _Lying_ is better than just outwardly saying you're not sleeping enough to keep up a full day's worth of energy?"

"You'd all just tell me to sleep more!"

"Because that's what you should be doing!" Balin looks completely irritated now, and Ori groans. Of course. He really should stop irritating his mentor. It does him no favors.

"But Balin," Ori says again, "I _can't_ sleep. I don't want to."

"And why not?"

"Because then I get nightmares!" Ori snaps, glaring at Balin, "and it's not just about Bilbo, okay!" He's not very fond of talking about this kind of stuff. But he does know that Balin tends to be a talker. That's why he's the advisor and Ori is just a _note-taker_. 

Balin looks genuinely interested as he settles on the chair beside Ori and laces his fingers together. "Is this about Dwalin again?" he asks softly, and Ori looks down at his own hands in shame and embarrassment.

"I know there is often unpleasant feelings that go with unrequited bonds," Ori mumbles **.** "I know that. But I didn't realise they could be _this_ bad. I wonder if… I  wonder if it's because Dwalin began to accepted it but then veered off when he saw how badly Bilbo was hurt and he decided that _I_ would be just like Bilbo one day and he might fail me and he said he _couldn't handle that_ and-"

"Ori," Balin interrupts and he reaches out to pat one of Ori's hand gently, "you're babbling. Your thoughts are running a mile a minute. You need to go and sleep-"

"I can't without him!" Ori explodes as he stands up and slams his hands on the table. "I've been so used to him sleeping beside me for a whole _year_ thatnow I can't! I constantly feel like there is something wrong **,** and I'm never relaxed enough to actually sleep more than a handful of hours! But I don't… I don't know what to do. He won't listen to me. He always brings it back to Bilbo. Always says that if he accepts the bond then one day it'll be _me_ lying on that bed because he thinks he will fail to save me like he thinks he failed in saving Bilbo."

"My brother has always been more brawn than brain, Ori," Balin says as he stands and surprises Ori by pulling him into a hug. "He has never responded well to words, more actions. He is the way our father taught him. He was told to think with his fists, and to only fear what others fists could do to him," Balin pauses, and Ori clenches his hands in Balin's jacket at the sorrow in his mentor’s voice, "much like I was taught to both use and fear the brain."

"It has made you an unstoppable pair," Ori points out with a smile when he pulls back from Balin's embrace, and Balin returns the smile with his own. 

"Aye. Thorin's brawn and brain. I make a useful advisor and Dwalin is a good guard…” Balin pauses though and frowns down at Ori. “Although he isn't currently. Don't get me wrong, Nori is doing a good job, but he hasn't-"

"Got Dwalin's overbearing presence?"

"Exactly," and Balin grins at Ori, making him preen a little under Balin's proud gaze, before Balin continues, "Dwalin can intimidate a man by standing over them whereas as Nori sits in corners and sharpens knives. He is useful if one does not wish to be seen. They'd be brilliant together, really."

"But for now Thorin needs someone imposing? So that people think twice before trying to take advantage of him?" Ori asks, and Balin nods his head. Once again Ori feels successful at being right, and he blushes when Balin pats his shoulder.

"Now," Balin says, "off to your quarters with you."

"But I-" Ori begins to protest because hadn't he just explained to Balin just _why_ he couldn't sleep? Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd say the man was getting senile in his old age.

"I didn't say to sleep, did I?" Balin interrupts though and Ori falls silent. “No. I didn't. I simply would like you to tuck yourself off back to your quarters where you may _rest_ until tomorrow afternoon's meeting in the throne room. It will be a big meeting, Dain has _finally_ asked for aid from Thorin instead of attempting to undermine him. I am meeting with Thorin myself this afternoon to discuss the plans-"

"Aren't I needed to take notes for that meeting?" Ori says, and Balin pats him on the head as he starts to bundle up Ori’s things to push into his arms.

"No, I can take them myself. It will not be a strain. You are not going to be needed until tomorrow afternoon, so take this day to _relax_."

Easier said than done, Ori wants to mutter, but he can tell that an argument will just agitate Balin at the moment **,** so he merely nods his head and accepts the pile of papers and books. He could sit down and read the tome about Durin the First's second wife that he found when scrounging around in the library the other day he decides as he bids Balin farewell and starts to totter out of the library. There's definitely too much weight in his arms with all the paper and books, but the idea of curling up in front of a lovely fire with that tome pushes him onwards.

He passes a few dwarves of the Company as he wanders along. He greets Nori warmly when he rushes past, even though his brother barely has time to give him a glance over and nod before he sprints off down towards the infirmary. Ori wonders what has him in a rush and if it might have something to do with Bilbo, but he brushes it off. His brother is always in a rush, and he most certainly never slows down. He nods at Oin as he wanders by in discussion with an Iron Hill dwarf, and he gives Ori a small smile as they exchange greetings. He bumps into Bofur when he's climbing the stairs to the next level, and Bofur happily takes a few books out of Ori's hand so he can actually _see_ as he climbs, before giving them back when Ori mentions Nori heading towards the infirmary.

"Honestly," he mutters to himself as he slowly makes his way down the last corridor towards his bedroom, "couldn't be more obvious if they tried."

He meets a problem though when he literally _crashes_ into another dwarf, the piled high papers and books obscuring his view, and he yelps as he lands on his bottom with a crack and the papers and books flutter down around him in painful slow motion.

Oh the pick up is going to be _hard_.

Of course, the next problem comes along when he looks up to see said dwarf he'd collided with is none other than _Dwalin_.

Instantly he feels hurt atseeing Dwalin looking at him with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation, and Ori quickly scrambles to his knees to start grabbing all the papers as he mutters apologies out of the corner of his mouth. Of course it has to be Dwalin he bumps into, because clearly today the world is out to get him. First Balin calls him out on being _asleep_ during one of their lessons which Ori admits he is incredibly embarrassed about, and then he has to be dismissed like a _child_ because he can't look after himself, and now of course he bumps into the one man who could technically help him solve all of this, but he looks more _agitated_ and _angry_ than anything else!

"Ori, are you… crying?" Dwalin's voice rings out, and Ori flinches at the dwarf's tone. He glances up to see Dwalin crouching down and looking at him with a mixture of uncomfortable concern and exasperation, and something in Ori snaps.

"And what if I am?" he demands as he sits up and glares at Dwalin, and he's happy to see that Dwalin winces at his own tone. “Why would you care?"

"Ori-"

"No. Go away. Leave me alone," Ori continues as he looks down and shuffles the papers he's collected so far into a neater pile. He doesn't look back up again until he's reaching for the last few papers and he sees a large hand already on them. He has half an urge to slap the hand away, but chooses not to as he turns his burning eyes, _from anger not tears_ , up to glare at Dwalin.

"Ori," Dwalin tries again for the third time as he lifts up the books he's collected for Ori to take, "I apologize. I didn't mean to bump into you. I didn't see you."

"I'm used to that," Ori snaps, and he's surprised at his own flood of anger, but he grits his teeth as he takes the books and adds them to his pile. “It’s nothing uncommon to have the Great Asshole Dwalin ignore me."

Dwalin looks sufficiently stunned at Ori's language, and even Ori himself is surprised that he'd _sworn_ so easily. He decides to worry about it later though and struggles to his feet instead with the papers and books precariously balanced in his arms.

"Here **,** let me-"

"Didn't I tell you to leave!" Ori snarks as he moves out of the way of Dwalin's helpful hands. He doesn't want Dwalin's help. He doesn't _need_ Dwalin's help. The dwarf just needs to _go away_.

The large hand grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face an angry Dwalin intimidates Ori, but he puts a glare on his face as he makes eye contact with the angry dwarf.

"Why won't you let me help you?" Dwalin asks, more like demands, and Ori narrows his glare as he yanks his arm from Dwalin's grip.

"Oh," he says sarcastically, "so _now_ I'm worthy of your attention? Of your help? Whatever happened to 'I can't be around you, Ori, you might get hurt'? Or, 'I can't handle if you end up like Bilbo, Ori'. Or even ' _I can't accept this bond, Ori'_?"

"You're still mad-"

" _Still_?" Ori practically screeches. “ _Still mad_? Of course I'm still mad, you giant lump! You've turned away from the only chance of us both getting happiness! And you've only done it for yourself!"

"You'll find someone else, Ori," Dwalin growls as he steps forward into Ori's space, and Ori has half a mind to drop his load of papers and books just to _punch_ the blasted dwarf in front of him.

"No!" he cries. “No I won't! Do you even know what a soul bond is? What a One is? It means you are my perfect match, Dwalin, and since you chose to _encourage_ it right up until Bilbo had his accident **,** then that means you are the only one for me! I'll never find happiness with another, I'll never sleep again without thinking of you, I'll never do _anything_ without thinking about _you_!"

It feels good to let it out, Ori realizes as he finishes and stands panting. It feels so _good_ to just let all his anger and frustrations of over two weeks out at the dwarf who has caused it all. He breathes heavily, his shoulders heaving from the effort, but he still glares at Dwalin as he stands in shock.

"I," Dwalin begins before he pauses and looks down **.** "I didn't know. I don't know much-"

"No you don't!" Ori interrupts. “You don't know _anything_ **,** and you refuse to let me teach you! You stomp around thinking you know everything and that your metaphorical armor can just deflect anything, but you don't realise that you hurt _everyone_ by doing so! You've hurt everyone purely because you think that you've _failed_ Bilbo Baggins in some way when you _haven't_! Freak accidents happen, Dwalin! He was injured on the battlefield **,** but he knew that going in to fight would lead to a heavy risk, and yet he still went! Stop blaming yourself and everyone around you, stop turning everyone away because of your guilt! Just stop it!"

"Well then, what do you want from me!” Dwalin suddenly roars, and Ori knows that if he wasn't so wound up, he'd have probably scampered away in fright. Instead though he holds his head high.

" _You_!" he screams back **. “** _I want you, you ridiculous, self-deprecating dwarf!_ "

Honestly, Ori doesn't know how it happens. One moment they're standing there screaming at one another, and the next Ori's things are all over the ground _again_ , but this time he's busy being wrapped up in Dwalin's arms as the _life_ is literally kissed out of him.

Dwalin, he realizes, kisses like he fights. Aggressively and with a hint of desperation as he dominates. Ori loves it, sinks into it with a moan as he clings to Dwalin's shirt with his desperate hands, and he opens his mouth to let Dwalin all the way in. Large hands wrap around his waist, and one slides down to cup his buttocks and draw him closer, and Ori jumps at first before he plasters himself to Dwalin's body and continues to kiss _the life out of the dwarf_.

It's like a wave of euphoria when he pulls away, gasping for breath as Dwalin's own pants lightly beat against his face. He revels in the feeling as he reaches up his arms to wrap around Dwalin's neck, and he just hangs there with his legs feeling boneless. 

"That," he pants after a moment, "that was definitely unexpected."

Dwalin hums in response, his forehead pressing against the top of Ori's head, and Ori reaches up to tug on Dwalin's hair.

He doesn't want to ruin the relaxed moment, but he has to as he pulls away and stares at Dwalin with big eyes. "Where does this leave us?" he asks, "because that was _wonderful_ ** _,_** and I'd very much like to do it again."

Dwalin looks torn for a long moment, and Ori takes pity on him as he reaches up on his tip toes and surprises Dwalin by pressing a soft kiss to Dwalin's lips. 

"Come on," he says as he pulls away and takes Dwalin's hand, happy when the dwarf doesn't resist and actually _links_ their fingers together, "help me take this stuff to my room, and we can talk then."

There is still some uncertainty on Dwalin's face, but he does nod and bend down to help pick up Ori's things once more. They sort them into two piles, one definitely bigger than the other, and Ori tries not to feel a bit miffed at that. The smile Dwalin gives him helps a lot, and he grins to himself as he goes about picking up his pile.

He's stopped briefly though for Dwalin to capture Ori's cheeks with his hands, and Ori feels lighter than a feather when Dwalin kisses him once more. There's less fire, but more smolder in this once, and Ori gasps when Dwalin pulls away with a sly smile.

It's obvious what he's going to be doing until tomorrow afternoon, Ori decides, and he gives Dwalin a wink as he scoops up his pile under one arm and takes Dwalin's hand with the other before tugging him towards his quarters.

 

…

 

**NORI POV**

Nori's relationship with his older brother has never been very good. Since a young age, they have clashed, with Nori unable to tolerate Dori's motherly attitude, and Dori unable to "tame" Nori. It had only gotten worse when their mother died in childbirth and left Nori and Dori to fend for themselves _and_ raise a baby Ori.

Things had gone hill from down there. Both had tried in their own ways to save their small family until Nori saw no other choice than to leave and find money elsewhere. 

After all, he'd always liked the human fairytale of Robin Hood.

Dori has never known who the money and food came from, just some anonymous donator he'd assumed, and he'd spent since the day Nori walked out hating him for leaving Dori with Ori to look after. Nori has never had the urge to tell him the truth, he doesn't think his brother could bare it.

But Nori has always maintained the idea that his relationship with Dori, no matter how abusive and vile, would _never_ be the same as Dori's and Ori's. He may have been the illusive man when he was younger, but now he is older, and he doesn't like the way that Dori _still_ treats Ori like a child.

It's that thought that has him braving Bilbo's room and entering it as Dori sits at Bilbo's side.

"Look, Dwalin, Oin said-" Dori starts muttering as Nori walks in, clearly mistaking him for Dwalin before he looks up and sees Nori. Dori's face instantly pales before his teeth visibly grit in anger.

"Dori-"

"What are you doing here?" Dori snarls as he stands up and moves to block Bilbo from view. "I thought you were busy crawling up Thorin's ass trying to prove some sort of loyalty."

"I never knew you could be such a potty mouth," Nori comments with a smug smirk, and Dori literally quakes in rage as he continues to glare holes through Nori. It doesn't make him flinch though. He's too used to Dori's behaviour now that it bounces off of him and falls flat.

"You have no right to be here. This is not your place."

"I have as much right as you do," Nori counters and Dori huffs as he crosses his arms. Nori swallows as he takes a hesitant step forward before staring down at his brother. "I'm not here to antagonize you," he explains with has much patience as he can muster, "I am here to talk about your treatment of Ori."

"Of _Ori_?" Dori snaps as he too takes a step forward right into Nori's space with his fists clenched. "What could you _possibly_ have to say about Ori? You know nothing about the boy. Your absence in his life has-"

"Let it go!" Nori groans. "Let it go, Dori. I left, I know, I get it. I left when I shouldn't have, but I saw no other way, and you _know this_. You know that we had no food and no money. We lived in poverty and-"

"You _left_ us to live in poverty while you tramped around the place like a common, _petty_ thief!" Dori roars back as he puffs out his chest and it bumps against Nori’s. “You wanted to escape, and to do so you _left us_ because-"

"I saw no other way," Nori interrupts as he shakes his head. "I saw how many times you went without food Dori, just so that Ori and I would have a full meal to fill our bellies. I saw the sacrifices you made. I saw the heirlooms that you had to sell for a pittance just to try and get us our next necessity. I saw how much you were deteriorating, and I thought that it would be easier if I left."

Dori stares at him with such an open gaze that makes Nori feels uncomfortable. He shifts his weight on his feet and glances at the ground before turning to look back at Dori.

"I believed it would be easier to feed only yourself and Ori," he continues into the tense silence, "and I knew that I could look after myself. I was, and still am, and adult. There was no need for you to look after me when you already had Ori. I left to allow you two a _chance_ to live."

"But what about our feelings," Dori growls after a hesitant second **.** "Ori cried and cried for weeks after you left. He blamed himself, thinking that you'd left because he wasn't a good child and had done something wrong. I, myself, wondered if you had left us because you thought we were no longer good enough for your hopes and ambitions. And then when I found out you'd been _stealing_ -"

"Dori," Nori sighs as he steps forward and places his hands on his brothers shoulders, "I've been stealing for longer than that. I've been stealing for years."

"Don't think I don't know about your trips to the palace kitchens," Dori scolds **.** "I did. Dwalin can't keep a secret to save himself. But you were long gone before I had time to tell you off. We didn't need you to steal, Nori. We would've been fine."

Nori can't say much. He'd argue the case if he could. He knows they wouldn't have been fine. Dori could barely scrounge together a meal for Ori back then, leading to Nori stealing from vendors, stalls, kitchens, **** _anywhere_ just so he could get his hands on more food. Dori never noticed. He'd always thought he'd gotten more than he'd thought and Nori had never had the heart to tell him otherwise.

But Dori seems to be relaxing in his presence and it has been such a long, _long_ time since that has happened, so Nori stays quiet and just glances at the ground. Dori's hands are on his elbows rubbing gentle circles into his shirt, and Nori finds himself also beginning to relax as he slumps into his brother.

"I just wanted to do something good," he admits quietly **.** "I know I'm a bad person. I steal and rob and sometimes I've had to kill, but back then I just wanted to do something good. I was tired of being accused of being that "rotten Ri boy" and I thought… I thought that if I left then everything would be better."

"Bad people still can do good things," Dori replies as his hands tighten on Nori's elbows, "but you have never been a bad person, Nori. You've angered me, you've made me want to bludgeon you to death with your ridiculous decisions and your stupid actions, and yes you've stolen and lied. I don't know much about recently or about these supposed killings, but before you left you did it all for good reasons. You're a good person, Nori. No matter what anyone says."

"Even you?"

Dori sighs and drops his hands to stand back with his arms crossed. "Even me," he reluctantly says, "I don't know you anymore, Nori. I only know the young brother who I was angry with for leaving us. But that Nori? That Nori was a good person. That is the only Nori I know, and that Nori I love still despite how angry I can be at him sometimes."

"Dori…"

"I have failed you, Nori," Dori says and there is tears in his eyes that makes Nori's widen **.** "I have failed both you and Ori. You left us because I was unable to fend for you. I knew about those people spreading rumors about you, but I never could stop them because I was too afraid of what would happen if I spoke out. I failed you-"

"You didn't," Nori states firmly. “If anyone failed anyone **,** it would be me. I turned to a life of crime. I hardly regret it, but there are moments when I wonder what would've happened if I'd chosen to be an honest man."

Dori laughs and reaches out to pat Nori's cheek lightly. "You always were sneaky," he says **.** "I feel as if it was in your blood. Remember, even mother use to call you **‘** Little Mouse **’** because you were so quiet on your feet."

It hurts to think of their mother, but Nori can't help the small smile as he thinks of her. It's been a long time, but he can still see her smile and hear her laugh if he tries hard enough.

"I'm sorry," Nori finally says, "for everything."

Dori looks at him with a small smile and he reaches out and tilts Nori's bowed head up so Nori can see it properly. "As am I," Dori says **.** "I am deeply sorry, Nori."

It's a truce, Nori realizes as he stares at his brother.It's a tentative truce and an unlikely one, but a truce nonetheless, and he grins as he claps his brother on the back. 

They don't say much else. Dori guides Nori to Bilbo's bedside, and Nori avoids the topic of Thorin as Dori updates him on Bilbo's condition. He seems to be positive about Bilbo's recovery, but Nori eyes the sweat beading on Bilbo's brow and the flush in his cheeks unfavorably. 

He doesn't mention it though. Only nods along and smiles on cue, and wonders why it is a hobbit that fell into a coma that is the catalyst that brought about a truce between himself and his older brother.

 

…

 

**OIN POV**

Admittedly, Gralf isn't all that bad of an assistant. Since Ori hadgone to assist Balin once more with all the political riff raff, Oin had to find a suitable replacementfor an assistant **,** and Gralf was keen and willing.

Not to mention the boy follows Oin around like some lost puppy with his book of notes out **,** ready to write down whatever Oin instructs.

He makes a mental note to ask Nori for a full background checkbefore he properly asks the lad to stick around as his full time assistant. Although that does still depend on whether Oin even decides to stick with this healing profession for much longer. The lad might be a good replacement if he leaves, despite having much more to learn, and Oin might even stay a while longer to train him.

It doesn't surprise him to see Gralf hovering by the infirmary door waiting for him. Nor to see that typical goofy grin on his face as he calls out a hello and bustles over. It makes Oin roll his eyes and give a gruff hello back as he shoves his bag of medical tools into the boy's arms and walks past.

Of course, Gralf is undeterred as he bops along beside Oin with a smile. He's saying something, rambling on in a big slur, and Oin just nods his head and doesn't listen. Well, pretends he isn't listening. He does actually know that the lad is going on about mining oresdown inthe mining chasms ofthe Iron Hills **,** and he makes another note to introduce Gralf to Bofur. Maybe then Gralf will latch onto Bofur instead.

Oin greets Dwalin at the infirmary door who nods back in his own greeting. Someone must be in visiting Bilbo then, since Dwalin only ever leaves Bilbo's door or room for someone else's privacy. He wonders who it is but is distracted when he glares at Gralf who surged forward just to open up the infirmary door for him. He mutters to himself about young people before he walks faster just so he can open the door to Bilbo's room. The lad looks a tad dejected at that, and Oin considers it a win.

He takes a deep breath before he enters, and he sees Gralf do the same out the corner of his eye, and he nudges him gently.

"Remember," he coaches, "disassociation."

"Harder than it sounds," Gralf replies as he nods his head. “Although it must be harder for you since he's your friend."

"He's a patient," Oin corrects **,** and he pushes into the room, "and that is how I will see him."

He isn't surprised to see a none other than Gloin sitting at the patient's bedside, and he nods at his brother as he moves in to stand on the other side of the bed. He hears Gloin greet Gralf and exchange a few pleasantries, but he's too busy to comment as he looks over the patient with a critical eye.

He sees the small beading of sweat on the patients’ hairline, and he touches the patient's crown only to feel a damp and hot head. Oin frowns as he moves his hand to the patient's cheeks and the back of his neck. In both places the skin is a burning heat. It's not until he sees the shaking of the patient's hands and hears the shortness of breath that he starts to truly worry.

"Gralf," he barks, interrupting the other's conversation, "are you prepared to take notes?"

Gralf scrambles for a moment, dropping Oin's bag as he tries to arrange it onto one arm with his book in the other, then he drops the book as he picks up the bag. Oin watches the boy with a raised eyebrow and a feeling that maybe he isn't actually as competent as he'd thought. Finally though Gralf hooks the bag onto his elbow, holds the book and uses his other hand to hold the pencil.

If Oin were younger, he'd call the lad an idiot. Fortunately he's older and merely frowns as he turns back to the patient.

"Write the date at the top," he instructs as he leans close to the patient's head and eyes the sweat once more, "so you don't forget like the last couple of times."

Gralf mumbles something under his breath, and Oin flashes him an irritated look before calling out, “Patient is sweating from the head and armpits and," he pauses to move a hand under the back of the patient’s leg, "and under the knee. Fine tremors of the hands and _very_ fine tremors on the body. Breathing is short and shallow." He stops to glance over at Gralf to see him scribbling furiously before he beckons his brother over. 

"I will need help taking off this bandage," Oin instructs as he points at the patient's hip. Gloin looks confused but nods anyway. "Gralf, I need you to flip back five days and read out to me the notes on the hip wound."

"Sir, from memory the hip was in a full recovery. It was the back-"

Oin cuts him off a sharp glare. "I know," he snaps back harshly, "but when an infection strikes it could be from anywhere, so checking all possible major wounds at risk, of which there are _three_ , is the safest idea."

Gralf flushes red but nods as he flicks back through his book. Oin grits his teeth as he turns back to the bandage that needs removing. He settles on just assigning Gloin to hand him a pair of shears to cut off the bandage instead of unraveling it. The bandage falls away with a flutter **,** and Oin leans in to look at the wound with a frown.

It looks perfectly normal. It's mostly sealed over with the stitches having been removed a few days ago by another healer. But besides the sheen of sweet and the slightly puffy redness **,** it looks on its way to healing well. He turns to look at Gralf and instructs him to read out the notes.

"They're quite long, sir. Do you want me to-"

"Paraphrase then, idiot," Oin mutters as he waves a hand to cut him off and turns back to prod at the wound. Gralf starts talking behind him, and Oin only half listens in. Swelling had lessened five days ago, and bruising had broken out. No infection.

Contrarily now, the swelling has come back **,** although not to the extremity that it had once been, and Oin reaches out to gently squeeze the swollen skin.

He pauses when some pus seeps out from a corner, and he turns to Gloin. "I need a knife," he orders, "preferably sharp. Gralf, come closer and record everything you see. I don't want to have to call out everything, so you must be thorough in your note taking.”

Both Gloin and Gralf nod as they hurry about. Soon there is a sharp knife with a very fine blade in Oin's hand, and he takes a deep breath before swiping the blade down the healed cut.

Instantly there's a rotten smell that fills the room, and Oin wrinkles his nose as the other two gag. It'sthe typical smell of dead flesh, and he pries open thewound to have a better look. There's pus and black flesh amongst it all, and blood oozes over his fingers as he pushes them in to feel around for any ruptures.

"Typical infection," he mutters to himself once he finds no other possible explanation. “We mustn't have cleaned it thoroughly before stitching it." He glances at the other two who look relatively green, and he rubs his face with his upper arm. He can't think of much to do now, and he withdraws his fingers to wipe on the bed sheet.

He checks the patient's reactions each time he prods the wound, disgruntled to see that besides a subconscious wince **,** there is no reaction. He orders Gralf and Gloin to help him turn the patient over and the smell goes with him. Oin packs the left over bandage along to the wound to stop it leaking everywhere.

"The back wound now, Gralf," he instructs, gesturing at the book of notes before he once again cuts the bandage from the patient. Almost instantly his eyes water at the smell, and he doesn't have to be a genius to tell that the pustule mangled mess of flesh is infected.

"Possible signs of infection," Gralf reads in a very quiet voice, "swelling has made it look worse and skin a flushed red."

Oin nods as he places his hand on the skin, and he bites the inside of his cheek at just how _hot_ the skin is. It's ruby red and the swelling surrounding the wound has become inflamed. He doesn't even bother to slice open any part of it, already confirming to himself that the wound in more infected than the other one.

"And the head," he says as he moves up. He's resigned though. There's a bad feeling that makes his stomach roll, and he has to have Gloin hold up the bandage for him to cut with his shaking hands.

Gralf's voice is even smaller than before when he says, “Wound still weeping, no longer anysigns of infection, swelling reduced, skin inflamed, tissue has regrown over the bone, still signs of spotting."

The fact that the bandage has more than justred spotting of blood on it, but also little traces of yellow pus makes Oin close his eyes and take a deep breath before he pulls away. It's not as bad as the back, but he can see that there is the black of dead flesh and the ooze of pus and blood. He takes a shaky step back as he struggles to stand on his unsteady feet.

" _Bilbo_ …" he mumbles as he stares at his friend, at all the blood and the infections **.** The fact that he has _failed_ his friend hurts so much more than the knowledge that Bilbo… that…

"Oin?"

"He's going to die," Oin says in a hushed whisper to his stunned brother, and he turns wide eyes to him **.** “Our hobbit is going to die, and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

It's like a damn breaks then. Like something in him snaps and he's flying forward to grab Bilbo's shoulders and roll him over. He's yelling, he can hear himself yelling, but he doesn't know what he's saying as he's shaking the hobbit and wanting him to wake up because it can't end like this. It _can't_.

Hands are scrabbling on his own shoulders, both Gralf and Gloin calling his name, and he hears the door burst open followed by Dwalin's shouts. He snarls when Dwalin's arms are wrapped around his waist, and he is yanked away from Bilbo, and he fights against them.

He has to wake Bilbo up, he _has_ to. There is too much riding on this hobbit for him to die now. A whole bloody kingdom's restoration relies on whether or not Bilbo gets up and walks from this or lies there and bloody dies. _Thorin's sanity_ relies on Bilbo waking up, and Oin doesn't want to be the healer that turned his king mad!

"Oin," Gloin is calling to him, and Oin turns to him with a glare, "Oin, snap out of it. You have a job to do. You can't just quit now-"

"He has three major infections," Oin spits as he wrestles from Dwalin's arms and stands with his fists clenched at his sides. “ _Three_. All of which have pus and dead skin. His insides are _rotten_. All because I didn't see the signs and stitched his skin up over the wounds so that they festered like little ovens. There is no way he can recover from this. Only some miracle, fancy cure from the blasted gods can save him now."

Gloin looks speechless and pale, and Gralf looks close to tears where he hovers by Gloin's shoulder. He's fairly sure that Dwalin is shaking behind him, whether from anger or tears Oin doesn't want to know.

"You might as well tell Fili," he instructs Gloin **.** “He will report toThorin. The king has to know. Bilbo won't last much longer than a handful of days.”

Dwalin makes a sort of strangled noise, but Oin ignores him in favor of pointing towards the door and waiting for Gloin to leave with Dwalin on his tail. He moves back over to Bilbo once the door has shut, and he reaches out to touch the inflamed skin only to see Bilbo's pustule blood covering his trembling hands.

He drops them by his side and fights back the tears from his eyes as he tries to block the image of a suffering Bilbo from his mind. He tries to think about any possibility, but there is nothing he can do. The infections are toxic and no doubt entered his bloodstream at some point or… he doesn't know. He just doesn't know.

"I'm not a very good healer, lad," he says quietly to Gralf who is still by his side. “You'd be better off finding someone else who can actually save their friend."

Gralf's hand settles on his shoulder, and Oin turns his gaze to him only to see the lad smiling softly.

"Sometimes there are people you can't save," he replies, "and sometimes you just have to try before you admit defeat. You've tried, but Bilbo Baggins is just one of those you can't save."

Oin doesn't want to admit it, but the lad's words make him settle a little. Guilt still fuels him, but he can actually breathe now. "How profound of you," he snarks, and Gralf laughs quietly.

"How can I help?"

He glances down at Bilbo once more, and he hates what he sees, but he moves forward anyway with Gralf by his side.

"We make him as comfortable as we can," he says as he reaches out with his trembling hands once more.

 

…

 

**BOFUR POV**

Bofur doesn't believe he's angry. He's hurt, he's sad, he's miserable, but he isn't angry. No one is to blame for the chaos they all are currently living in, and he sees the way that Thorin's eyes no longer have anything but _dullness_ to them. He can't blame Thorin for what has happened to the kingdom, or to Bilbo, or even to the company. They're all responsible for their own actions, and no one else's.

That doesn't mean that he _doesn't_ get angry though. Many times lately he has just had a moment where he has needed to vent, and he'sgone to Nori every time. He doesn't know what it is about the dwarf, but the strength and resilience he shows makes Bofur feel comfortable just voicing his thoughts to him. Nori sits quietly and listens, his attention never wavering, and Bofur is thankful that he doesn't argue when Bofur shuffles forward to hold his hand or rest his head on Nori's shoulder. He's always been a stickler for physical affection, and somehow Nori is comforting when Bofur goes to him.

He finally loses it at Thorin a few weeks after the battle. He's been assigned by the king to explore the mines and equipment with a handful of other dwarves to see what is useable and what isn't. It's a dangerous job, one Nori had seemed miffed about when Thorin had assigned it, but Bofur personally finds it exhilarating to be doing his old job once more. 

But it's when he's in a meeting with Thorin over his latest report that the anger finally bubbles over. 

They just finish discussing the rust on most of the equipment and their removal, when Bofur wonders if it is still okay to address the king as a friend. He has questions about Bilbo, Thorin's relationship with him, lots of things, and he glances at Nori who hovers on the other side of the table before addressing the king.

"Thorin?" he says into the silence, and Nori stares at him with wide eyes as Thorin slowly looks up with a frown.

"Yes, Bofur?"

"I, well," he purses his lips and thinks about his wording before he continues, "I was just wondering if you had been to see Bilbo at all? I know that he would love to see you-"

"Bilbo is unconscious," Thorin interrupts **.** “He can't _see_ anyone."

Bofur knows he probably shouldn't say anything else, but he frowns as he opens his mouth once more. "Oin said that Bilbo can still hear us in his coma," he says, "and I just thought that maybe if you were visiting him, then-"

"Bofur," Thorin cuts him off once more, and across the table Nori winces, "I do not need to see Bilbo Baggins. What I do need to do is restore this kingdom to its utmost best. Bilbo would understand that more than me sitting by his bedside where I do more wrong than right."

"But-"

"You are excused, Bofur," Thorin dismisses with a flick of his hand that has Bofur's eyes narrowing. "I will see you in three days time to consult you on the continuation of the repairs."

Thorin turns from him then,reabsorbed by the papers in front of him, and Bofur stands with his mouth open **,** speechless for a long moment. Across from him Nori is shaking his head and gesturing at the door, mouthing something that Bofur can't make out. He chooses not to argue though and simply gathers his things as he heads for the door.

But as he walks he thinks of poor Bilbo lying in his bed. He knows Oin is doing another check up today, and he had intended to invite Thorin to accompany him to see Bilbo once Oin was finished. He knows Bilbo would like that, he knows that Bilbo was madly in love with their king **,** much to everyone'samusement, even though they all knew nothing would come of it. Well, most of them did. Nori had confided in him the other day about Bilbo and Thorin being… well, each other’s Ones.

It's that knowledge that sparks his anger, and he suddenly stops and turns around to glare at Thorin.

"No," he says, and his voice rings clear in the room, making the other two look up. “No, I will not be dismissed like some sort of child."

"Bofur…" Nori starts to say, but Bofur cuts him off with shake of his head.

"No, Nori. Thorin needs to hear this," he snaps, and Nori falls silent as Thorin looks at him with something akin to morbid curiosity.

"Hear what?" he asks, and Bofur takes the chance to stomp forward and slam his things back down onto the table.

"I don't understand why you don't just come see Bilbo," Bofur declares as he stands with his arms crossed. “Your avoidance is ridiculous. He's not angry at you, Thorin. After all, how can you be sure? He _is_ unconscious. I know how much he means to you-"

"You know nothing," Thorin cuts him off once more with gritted teeth, and Bofur just feels enraged at being disrespected by someone he thinks of as a friend.

"Yes I do!" he protests loudly **.** "I know exactly how much to mean to one another! Bilbo would never stop talking about you the entire journey here. It was always 'don't you think Thorin looks lovely tonight, Bofur?', or 'his eyes are prettier than any flowers I've ever seen, Bofur', or 'isn't his hair just amazing, Bofur? I'd love to braid it, Bofur. Do you think he'd let me, Bofur?' For months I put up with Bilbo literally waxing poetry and giving you doe eyes, and I know now that it was most certainly not unrequited!"

"Bofur, you are crossing a very thin-"

"For the love of Mahal, he is your _One_ ," Bofur cuts off Thorin's warning with a wave of his hands in the air. “He is the one person who literally completes you, and yet it's like you don't even care about him!"

He knows he's said the wrong thing when Thorin's jaw clenches and his hands tighten into fists. Even Nori is shaking his head as he drops it into his hands, and Bofur regrets everything he's said as Thorin storms forward.

"I don't care?" he says, and his voice is deadly quiet **.** "I don't _care_? How _dare_ you accuse me of not caring for my One **—** and I don't even want to know _how_ you know that considering I believe I won't like the answer **—** but you dare to assume that my avoidance of Bilbo Baggins is because _I don't care_?"

"I-"

"It is because of me that he is there!" Thorin explodes, and Bofur physically rocks back in shock. “It is because of my weakness, of my succumbing to the madness of Durin’s line, and my ignorant decisions that Bilbo lies on that bed with his life hanging in the balance! I do not wish to see Bilbo Bagginsfor I fearthat my madness will return when I lay eyes upon him, that I might do more bad than good."

Bofur disagrees, he disagrees entirely **,** but he says nothing as Thorin stands in front of him with all the anger and sadness of a broken man.

"I can't even keep myself together," Thorin admits, "let alone this kingdom. It is Balin and Fili who do most ofthe work. They assess every major incident, every offer and theterms given to me by the other dwarves clans, every fracture in this forsaken mountain, and then work to come up with solutions and answers. Then they present to me the final decision, which I either agree or disagree with so that I may then present it to Dain and the other diplomats from the Iron Hills, even the diplomats of the humans. I am nothing more than a figurehead now, and I struggle to even keep that up, all because my mind is constantly racked with guilt over the fact that _I am the one who has killed Bilbo Baggins_."

"He's not dead, Thorin," Nori speaks up, and Thorin's laugh sounds hysterical as he stares at the two.

"But when he wakes up he will leave for the Shire," Thorin says, "and he will leave me. He is as good as dead. The only reassurance I will have is that he will live out his days in the Shire in happiness, which is all but the same as the hobbit afterlife. He is _gone_."

"He doesn't have to be," Bofur protests as he rushes forward to grab Thorin's hands in his own, not thinking about any possible consequences. "Bilbo will stay if you ask him, Thorin, because at least then he'll know his love is requited."

"It has been for a long time," Thorin admits, "since Beorn's house. I accepted him then as my One, even though I believed he did not know. Hobbits don't have Ones, they only believe in love and that if one should no longer love another, then they move on. I've never had the heart to tell him more, but Dwalin shared with me that Bilbo _knew_."

"He _loves_ you-"

"Does he, though?" Thorin counters with an arched eyebrow and he drops his hands from Bofur's grip **.** “Does he really? We were lovers until the night we left for Erebor, until I became too _mad_ to see anything but gold and the Arkenstone **.** And now? Now I can't bear to even see him."

"We can take you," Bofur states firmly, "right now, we can take you to see Bilbo. Nori will come, I'll come, you won't be alone."

Thorin's eyes are bright with wetness, yet Bofur refusesto comment. Let the man cry if he so wishes. It doesn't make him any less of a man. He's cried multiple times on poor Nori, and he is willing to open his arms to Thorin.

"I told Dwalin I would try to earn forgiveness," Thorin whispers, "that I would try my hardest to be worthy of him. I don't…"

"Come on, Thorin," Nori interrupts gently as he stands beside Bofur. "Bofur is right. We will take you, right now, to see him. It will do you the world of good to actually see the face of the ridiculous hobbit you love."

It seems to do the trick, and Bofur feels infinitely grateful to Nori as Thorin slowly nods his head. Nori smiles at his king, and Bofur offers his hand to him with his own smile.

"Let’s go," Bofur says. He feels Nori's hand on the small of his back, and he leans into him as Thorin slowly takes his hand. Relief pours through him, and he surprises all of them by dragging Thorin into a tight hug.

Nori looks shocked, but he breaks out into a smile when Thorin hugs back just as tightly. It's a change from the normally stoic Thorin, and Bofur grins to himself when he realizes that Thorin must feel pretty darn safe to be willing to have such a weak moment as this.

Of course, it’s when Thorin is pulling back with a small smile that the doors burst open and none other than Fili comes scrambling in. He's limping horribly, and there's so much panic on his face that Bofur instantly feels the room go cold.

"It's Bilbo," Fili says, and Bofur feels faint.

 

…

 

**FILI POV**

"Where is Thorin now?" Balin asks staunchly as he strides down the hallway. It hurts Fili to keep up, his leg screaming out in protest as he tries to hurry along at Balin's side, but keep up he does, and he grits his teeth against the pain.

"Nori and Bofur have taken him the infirmary," he explains **.** “Although I don't know if they'll even make it. I gave then a rundown of what Gloin said. Uncle looked pretty shaken when I turned up, let alone after I'd finished talking."

Balin's lips are pressed thin, and Fili thinks his probably look the same. "Is Oin waiting at the infirmary?" Balin asks, and Fili takes a deep breath to fight back the pain before replying.

"Gloin said Oin is waiting with his assistant Gralf. I'm assuming they're making Bilbo comfortable."

"We need to do an inventory of where the company is," Balin mutters as he glances at Fili. "I've sent Dwalin to fetch the other two Ri brothers-"

"Are you sure it's safe to have us all in the same room?" Fili butts in. "I know that Dori is still unpredictable in his temper and tends to spark Gloin's anger as well."

Balin wrinkles his nose. "Do we have any other choice?" he asks, and Fili has no answer. “Bifur has gone AWOL, so I have sent Bombur away from the building site to find him. Your brother is still down at Lake-Town, and I have issued a messenger to Bard to escort Kili back. Thorin…"

"He's working himself into an early grave, isn't he?" Fili quietly mumbles, and Balin stops so suddenly that Fili struggles to keep his balance as he lands on his bad leg abruptly and topples into him.

Once he rights himself he glances at Balin, prepared to demand an explanation, but the look on Balin's face makes him hold his tongue. He looks so forlorn, so lost, and Fili's eyes widen as he gently calls out Balin's name.

"What do we do, Fili?" Balin suddenly whispers. “What do we do? Once Bilbo… Once he dies, we lose Thorin for good. We barely have half of him now. Bilbo dying will _kill_ him."

"We don't know-"

"You've never had a One," Balin interrupts as he gives Fili a torn smile. “It hurts more than you could possibly imagine to have them die before you. He'll go mad. And not mad with sickness, but mad like your grandfather who lost your grandmother to years of poverty in travel. It drove him crazy with grief, and the added factor of the gold sickness being in his blood… _Thorin_ will no longer be the man we know."

"He's already not,” Fili says. “He’s not the Uncle I've always knows. My Uncle used to smile. He's just a figurehead-"

"And imagine what will happen when the hope that his One will survive is gone?" Balin protests. “When there is nothing left for him to fight for? What then?"

It hits home then. Fili thinks about it hard, and he realizes that he'd be lost for a long time if Kili died. He doesn't want to think what would happen if Thorin lost his One, his other half, his _soulmate_. It makes him suck in a breath that he nearly chokes on. 

"We can barely hold the kingdom up now," Balin continues as if Fili isn't having his own crisis, "and that is only by using Thorin's power and authority. With him gone, it'll be you who must take up the mantle, Fili. You will have the company standing behind you-"

"Can we not think about this!" Fili interrupts nearly hysterically. "Bilbo's heart hasn't even stopped, _Uncle_ hasn't even gone mad enough to give up his kingship, and you're already planning for me to become king? Balin, stop for just a moment!"

"But I can't," Balin disagrees, and he moves forward to grab Fili's shoulder tightly. “Don't you see, Fili? A kingdom cannot just _stop_ for a moment. A kingdom must go on with or without its leader, preferably with. You must be ready, Fili."

It's swallowing him, Balin's words and the sudden reality of what is happen. It's swallowing him, and Fili can't keep afloat as he shakes his head furiously. He can't be thinking about this. He _can't_. Bilbo will be fine. He just knows it. Everyone is just overreacting over a small problem.

"I can't," he says once more, and Balin's laugh is so abrupt and hysterical **t** hat Fili blinks his eyes open to see Balin's eyes wet and his hand covering his mouth as he starts sobbing.

He calls Balin's name loudly and takes a step forward in alarm only for a bolt of pain to shoot up his leg and he slams to the ground. He's not alone for long though as Balin sinks down beside him and reaches out to touch his leg with trembling hands.

"I didn't think," he says and it's barely intelligible. "I walked too fast. You must've pushed your muscle too hard. Oin said-"

"Oin is busy trying to save the whole bloody kingdom," Fili snaps. “He can't be right about everything. It's you I'm worried about." It is. There is no doubt about it. The tears on Balin's cheek are so foreign that Fili doesn't know what to do other than reach out and attempt to pull the old dwarf into a tight hug.

Balin goes with him, his hands tightening on Fili's shirt as he starts to sob into Fili's neck. It's disgusting and uncomfortable, but Fili holds on tightly and tries not to think that the man breaking is not the man he has looked up to for years alongside Dwalin and his Uncle.

"What do we do, Fili?" Balin asks, and Fili feels cold at those five desperate words, and his hands tighten into fists on the cotton of Balin's shirt.

"We get through this," he declares. “We band together, and we get through this. We try to keep Uncle in one piece, we try and figure out every possible avenue to save Bilbo, and we don't let the kingdom see us as anything but a united front."

Balin pulls back to sniff and wipe his nose, and he nods solemnly at Fili before rising to his feet. He extends a hand to Fili who gratefully accepts it before he begins to help Fili walk at a gentler pace towards the infirmary.

Fili doesn't tell him that he doesn't believe a word he says. He doesn't believe they'll be able to keep Thorin together, he doesn't think Bilbo will survive, and he doesn't know if the kingdom will even remain intact.

It doesn't mean he won't try.

 

…

 

**THORIN POV**

Thorin knew he would never make it to the infirmary. As soon as Fili had left the throne room and the other two had started hustling him out… he _knew_. Seeing Bilbo alive and breathing was one thing, and maybe with Nori and Bofur's help he could've done it. But seeing him lying still gasping from breath and bleeding and whatever else his mind concocts up… he couldn't do it.

He'd told them that he needed a minute alone to get his head on straight. Bofur had accepted right away with a smile and nod. Thorin has always like Bofur, he's always been kind and gentle and he had needed the hug earlier no matter the inappropriateness of it. But Nori, he'd seen the look in Nori's eyes and he knew that Nori understood he was going to run. Nori had even asked to accompany him, and if Bofur hadn't have stressed the _alone_ part of his request then Nori no doubt would've forced him into the infirmary.

He really should've gone instead of disappearing to a deserted kitchen. He'd rattled around in the cupboards for a while before he'd found what he wanted and now here he sits. The table is littered with empty bottles already, and on one side there is a small group of full ones to match the one in his hand. He's never been a fan of his father's sweet ale, but after the years of Smaug inhabiting the mountain it seems to have become bitterer. 

Much like the taste in his mouth, and he tries to wash it away with each mouthful.

He's drunk. He knows he is. He can feel the tingling in his fingers and his head feels both heavy and light at the same time. He drops it to his arms slowly and pillows his face in the cotton of his sleeves as he still holds the neck of his current bottle tightly in hand. He wonders if he can keep his head down and still have a drink, but after realizing he can't suck the ale of the glass bottle while looking down he sits up with a grumble.

"You're ridiculous," a voice comes from the doorway, and Thorin scowls over to see Nori standing with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

"At least I don't braid my eyebrows into my hair," Thorin snaps back and Nori doesn't even look slightly offended as he walks in to stand at one end of the table. 

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Nori continues as if Thorin hadn't even spoken and Thorin feels angry at being ignored like that, "but I don't doubt that you really need to get hammered. Just, stay here for a while? The company is having a meeting in the infirmary about Bilbo's condition. I'll be back to tell you later just… stay put."

Thorin doesn't reply just turns his nose up and looks away. Nori is no fun. He's all serious and dumb and he just waves him away in dismissal as he attempts to take another drink. He wrinkles his nose when he spills it down his front and decides to flop back down on the table.

There's an overly dramatic sigh from Nori, and Thorin snorts to himself as he thinks that _Nori_ could be his queen if Bilbo dies. He's already got the worrying down pat and he acts like he's his mother. Maybe he could be Queen Mother then. Not queen. 

The door clicks shut on the other side of the room, and Thorin glances up to see Nori gone as well as the empty bottles on the table. He frowns at that. He'd had intentions on drinking a bottle for each member of his company and Nori had just ruined it all.

He shakily gets to his feet and stumbles towards the cupboards his father had stocked full of this shitty ale. He'll just have to start all over again.

After a ridiculous amount of times trying to count how many bottles he needs, he finally stumbles back to the table with six bottles, downs the last one and grabs another.

"To Bilbo," he toasts and clinks it against the other twelve bottles. He hasn't put one there for himself. He doesn't deserve to drink a bottle for himself. 

It's only after the first couple of mouthfuls that he covers his face and feels the wetness on his cheeks. He can't stop himself from thinking of Bilbo, no matter how many bottles of this terrible ale he drinks. Bilbo's smile is still in his head, his laugh, the way he says Thorin's name, just… _everything_ about him is branded in his mind and he can't get away from it.

He drops his hand to his pocket and rummages around for a moment. There's a surprising amount of stuff in there and he purses his lips as he throws documents and trinkets onto the table before his hand finally finds what he was looking for.

It's a small acorn button, one of the ones from Bilbo's jacket. He pulls it out and rubs his thumb over the brass with a small smile. Bilbo had been so wound up when he'd lost all but one of these little buttons in the goblin caves, and Thorin glances over at the trinkets on the table to spot his carving knife amongst a few small blocks of wood.

He'd desired to make five buttons out of wood exactly like this little brass one for Bilbo to have when he woke up. They wouldn't be the same nor would they look as smart as the shiny brass, but it would be the thought that counts. There's one already complete, and Thorin places his bottle down to reach for it. It needs and oil and varnish to turn it a deeper brown than the current colour, but it's nearly perfect as he compares them.

His hand clenches over them both before he throws them across the room with a shout and reaches for the familiar bottle. There's no point now. Nothing. Bilbo is dying and there is _nothing_ he can do to stop it.

"Mother always use to say I was never a quitter," he mutters to himself as he palms his eyes, "well, look at me now. Are you proud? Are you and father proud of what I've become? I _am_ a quitter."

It's those words that strike something in him though, and suddenly he's staring at the bottle in hand in utter disgust. How has he come to this. How has he come to being some lousy drink sitting down feeling sorry for himself.

He throws the bottle in his hand away like the buttons before it. The smash makes him feel good and he promptly follows up by throwing another two bottles. He doesn't think about the repercussions, only how great it feels to see the glass fly everywhere and the ale ooze all over the floor.

It's right then and there that he realizes that he's wrong. He's been so so wrong because he's been thinking like _himself_. It was always perfect with himself and Bilbo. They both always thought completely the opposite and so finding a solution to a problem was never hard. Sure, both would have to fight the others stubbornness, but there were so many different avenues to consider.

Thorin has been too busy wallowing in his sadness and only thinking about what to do _after_ Bilbo dies that he hasn't thought of what to do to _prevent_ him from dying. 

He quickly scrambles around the paper on the table for one to write on. He yanks one over and barely read the writing that says something about _Land Agreement_ and _Iron Hills_ before he's promptly scribbling over it with ideas. A lot he crosses out, some he wonders what he was even thinking, and after a couple he ends up opening one of the other bottles, toasting his nephews, and downing half of it in one gulp.

Finally though he comes up with an idea, one that is almost foolproof. Even though he is loathe to go through with it he thinks about Bilbo lying in a bed _dying_ and the urge to do _anything_ for his One overcomes his loathing.

Now, he decides as he stands up and heads towards the door, now to find Nori.

 

…

 

**NORI POV**

"You've got to be joking me," Nori says as soon as he walks into the throne room to see Thorin lounging on the throne with a drunken grin on his face and some other form of alcohol that's not Thrain's trusty ale in hand. He honestly has no idea where he got it from, and frankly he doesn't want to know.

"Took you long enough," Thorin replies as he raises his bottle in salute, "I've been waiting for you to find me. You're too hard to find."

"I _locked_ the door," Nori mutters as he stomps forward, "how the hell did you get out!"

Thorin snorts as Nori grabs his arm and drags him off the throne. The last thing he needs is to have Balin breathing down his neck about Thorin condoning himself like this in a public place. He's surprised Thorin hasn't been caught already, and he quickly tugs him out one of the side doors and starts to make his way up the back corridors only servants have ever used. Well servants and children. 

"You taught me a few things," Thorin drunkenly hiccups, and it's possibly the only sign besides the stumbling and the friendliness of him even being drunk. Nori grits his teeth. Lucky bastard.

He chooses not to say anything else as he pulls him through a few more doorways and somehow gets him up a few flights of stairs until they're on the corridor Thorin's quarters are located on.

"Try not to be drunk for a minute," Nori hisses at him as he spots Thorin's guards outside his room. Thorin snorts again and Nori tries not to think about the fact that Thorin is quite possibly _drooling_ on his arm right about now. 

Thankfully though Thorin does take Nori's instructions to heart and he manages to get them past the guards with no trouble. Maybe with a few concerned glances, but he manages to make it out as Thorin just being exceptionally tired from a long day.

As soon as they're in his quarters though he turns to Thorin and points at the bed. "Get in," he snaps, "you've caused enough mischief today."

"Says you," Thorin retorts as he stumbles over, and Nori has to grip his hips to keep him walking straight. It's ridiculous, and if Thorin was sober he'd be mortified by his actions.

He had deserved to get hammered though, as Nori had said earlier, and to see Thorin actually smiling makes Nori think that a bit of exasperation makes it all worth it.

"Can I ask a favour?" Thorin asks with a smile once Nori has tucked him into bed, "please?"

"Maybe in the morning," Nori replies as he pats down the sheets, "when you're less likely to embarrass yourself."

"Can you adopt Bilbo and become Queen Mother?" Thorin plunders on anyway, "you're just like a mother. All caring and womanly and… and _caring_."

Nori actually has to think about not hitting himself for a long moment, or Thorin for that matter, before blows out the candle beside Thorin's beside and bids him goodnight.

He's by the door and about to blow out the other couple of candles when Thorin calls out to him once more. It's only because of how quiet and sincere Thorin sounds that Nori stops, and he glances over his shoulder to see Thorin sitting up with a grimace on his face.

"I really do need your help, Nori," he says seriously, "it's for Bilbo. I've come up with an idea."

Nori picks up one of the candles and moves closer. "Is it a good idea?" he asks solemnly, "or is it some stupid drunk idea?"

Thorin seems to ponder the answer for a moment before he shakes his head. "Both probably," he replies and the smile on his face isn't humorous and it's what intrigues Nori the most.

"What is it then?"

"I…" Thorin hesitates for a moment before he sighs, "I want to go see the elves."

Nori raises an eyebrow at that before he sighs and sits down on the end of the bed. This'll be good, he thinks, and interesting. If _Thorin_ is suggesting they go to the elves then he must be truly desperate.

Of course he is, it is his One _dying_ after all.

"Fili said something about Oin only believing a miracle cure could save Bilbo," Thorin continues as Nori gives him his full attention, "and who else can do a miracle cure? We go to the elves and ask for their help. It's simple."

Nori purses his lips as he glances at the candle in his lap. "One problem," he says softly, "the elves hate us."

"But they don't hate Bilbo. In fact they seemed to be infatuated with him."

"But Thorin, it'll be _you_ who is asking. It's _you_ who has the grievance with the elves the most. They won't accept. They'd much rather see you suffer as retribution of whatever it is they think you've done to them."

Thorin looks lost and he shakes his head. "No," he says, "no they will help. Nori, you have to help me get to them."

It's such a foolish idea, and Nori would have once upon a time jumped on the chance to sneak a _king_ out of his kingdom. It would've gone down in the history books and his name would've become legendary. But Nori isn't like that now. All this responsibility? It's changed him and he reluctantly gets up.

"Go to sleep, Thorin," he almost orders as he looks down at him, "we'll talk about this tomorrow when you're sober."

He goes to turn away for the second time that night, only for Thorin to once more call his name. He doesn't want to stand still and listen to Thorin, but he does. He can't disobey his king.

"Do you remember when you were younger, Nori?" Thorin says behind him, and Nori closes his eyes against the memories, "when your father left you and your family, and your mother died soon after in childbirth? Do you remember Dori running himself ragged trying to feed both you and Ori?"

Of course he does. How could he ever forget.

"Do you remember when you decided to turn to a life of crime just to try and keep your small family afloat?" Thorin continues as if Nori isn't trying to ignore his burning eyes, "because I do. I remember watching your noble family fall with your father's leaving. I remember asking my father if there was anything we could do and Thrain just shaking his head because Thror was too conservative to allow your mother to be known as a noble in his courts."

"You did help us though," Nori croaks, "that day down in the kitchens…"

Thorin laughs behind him and Nori turns to see Thorin smiling softly at him. "You know then what I am about to refer to?" he asks, and Nori purses his lips before he finally nods.

"Of course I do," he snaps and he suddenly feels so lethargic that once more he slumps on the end of the bed. "I'm no fool," he says with less menace, "I know that… that day down in the kitchens. I thought I was going to die. I hadn't anticipated there being so many guards."

"I remember one saying that you'd been caught with half a loaf of bread in your mouth and a basket full of whatever else you'd managed to find in the cupboards."

Nori laughs. "Yeah," he agrees, "we hadn't eaten in four days and I was desperate for something so I didn't wait. I still remember the guards being so shocked that they just stood there for half a moment before they grabbed me. They took the basket from me, and I remember one saying that I should finish my mouthful because it's the last one I'll ever get. I never knew then what the penalty from stealing from the kitchens was. First my hands and then my head," he glances over at Thorin, "I was only a child."

Thorin nods his head along Nori's recounting, and Nori sighs. He hates this story. But it was also the turning point in his life. If he were a sad character in a story, like the ones Ori reads, this would be his backstory.

"I remember you coming down the stairs," he continues in the silence, "both you and Dwalin with your sparring swords over your shoulders demanding food. I remember seeing you in court before but never up close and for a moment I remember thinking that you looked like a pig-headed brat."

"Excuse you-"

"But then you asked what the guards were doing," Nori plows on with a small grin on his face at Thorin's indignation, "and they explained they'd caught me _stealing_. You looked at me then, and I was sure that I was done for, right before you told them to unhand me and never touch your _friend_ ever again. I remember you lying through your teeth about how I'd come down to fetch yourself and Dwalin some refreshments from training, and I remember exchanging a look with Dwalin of complete disbelief."

"I wanted to help you," Thorin says seriously, "like I couldn't do with the court. And when father found out just how stealthy you were after I got those guards away from you he was happy to help you as well."

"He saw me as an opportunity," Nori snaps, "not as a person. Don't try and sugarcoat it."

"I'm not," Thorin disagrees, "I know what my father was thinking. But I wasn't. I thought about an opportunity to make a _friend_. You looked liked you needed one."

"I didn't need your pity."

"I have never pitied you," Thorin sighs, "I wanted you to be safe, and you becoming a companion to me did so. Don't deny that. It gave you a chance at life."

Nori can't deny that. He was able to get away from home for hours and hours, and he was able to sneak food from the kitchens when Thorin would purposefully distract the cooks. It worked well in his favor and Dori never knew a think. Well, supposedly he did considering _Dwalin_ can't seem to keep his mouth shut.

But it's true. Thorin's help in the kitchens that day helped him. It changed him. And even though after Smaug attacked and Nori disappeared in an attempt to get away from disaster after disaster, even though he left Thorin behind in a dust cloud of betrayal… he has _never_ forgotten what he owes Thorin.

"So," he says with a hint of a laugh, "you're calling on the favor I owe you then?"

"I ask that you help me, Nori," Thorin replies, "like I once helped you."

"I'll take that as a yes," Nori grumbles and he sighs as he gets up. "Fine," he agrees, "we go to the elves. But we have to plan it properly. If I'm going to go down in the history books as the dwarf who snuck a king out of his own kingdom, then we're going to do this properly."

Thorin's answering grin makes Nori huff as he turns to walk out. It may be Bilbo's only chance though, and frankly if it makes his king smile like that once more then he will do everything he can to convince those tree-shagging bastards to help them.

 

…

 

**_end of part two_ **


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. This is the end. My gosh, it's about time.
> 
> I love this fic. I've worked hard on it, I've spent weeks pouring over it and literally putting tears into these words. This fic means a lot to me on a more personal level and I love everything.
> 
> I'm delighted at the response I've had with it, and I thank each and every one of you for reading and commenting and just generally being here for this.
> 
> To Sera, thank you. Just thank you. Words fail me with how amazing you have been with this fic. Your art has inspired me and the fact that you spent so much time pouring over this disaster editing it has meant so much to me. Thank you.
> 
> To Nat and Mags, you are my knights in shining armour. I told you many times "it'll be done tonight!" and many times I totally lied, but you have always remained positive and proud and I would love to hug you both a million times for being there for me. Thank you, guys <3
> 
> To everyone, you're amazing. Each and every single person who has read this fic deserves a high five because you are all brilliant.
> 
> This chapter is the longest of the lot, the saddest too (but don't worry, I have said that there is no major character death), but this is it. I will say here that this might not feel like the end. And that's because it's not, this is only the beginning.
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you.

_**The End** _

 

**BALIN POV**

The sheer amount of meetings Balin has to go to is phenomenal. Often he feels as if he should just be _living_ in the meeting room. Already today he's had four with various dwarves on the reparations of the kitchens, living quarters, front gate and some of the collapsed staircases. Having sent away Ori to rest has made him even busier as well considering he has to take his own notes.

Not that Ori has rested. Not that _anyone_ is resting. The realisation that Bilbo won't be living through this disaster has shocked them all and Balin finds himself having to store away his grief just to keep the kingdom afloat. He's not doing very well though. He spends more time spacing out in meetings than actually listening, and one of the dwarven messengers had had to repeat his message numerous times before Balin actually understood it.

There's so much going through his head though, and he clenches his fists to rub his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

On the positive side, there's only one more meeting for the day which is with Dain, and hopefully he can pull the sympathy act. Dain has been a bit more kinder since Thorin spoke to him. He sent an apology on his treatment of Balin and an explanation about the situation in the Iron Hills, and Balin had instantly understood better. 

After all, desperate men do desperate things.

He's just entering the meeting hall, where he can see Dain already waiting, when Dwalin comes bursting it. It shocked Balin enough that he jumps and a few scrolls off the top of his pile land on the floor with dull thuds. Even Dain looks relatively shocked, and Balin doesn't hesitate in dropping the rest of his things into the arms of a nearby dwarf before bustling over to his brother.

"Dwalin, are you aright?" he asks as he reaches up to press the back of his hand against his brothers forehead. Dwalin bats it away though, and Balin has the patience to wait for his brother to suck in a few big mouthfuls of air before he speaks. He must've run a great distance to be like this, Balin thinks. His brother is normally exceptionally fit.

"It's Thorin," Dwalin manages to say after a moment before he starts coughing. 

The words hit something in Balin and he freezes. He remembers those exact words coming from his brothers mouth years ago in this exact room, and he remembers it was about Thorin's _mother_ dying.

"What now?" he whispers as he steps forward and prods his brothers shoulder harshly. Dwalin looks at him with wide forlorn eyes, and Balin braces himself for something exceptionally bad.

"He's drunk," Dwalin states, "he's drunk and gone mad. He's so… he's so wrapped up in grief Balin that no one can't get through to him. Nori and I had to split up. I was to come find you to help but… Balin, he's rambling and muttering and he's-"

"He's not mad, Dwalin," Balin lightly chastises, "his One is dying, and there is no way for us to stop it. He is merely grieving."

"But he's drunk!" Dwalin bursts out and Balin takes a step back in shock. "He's drunk and we all know how much Thorin hates to drink after his grandfather-"

"Hold your tongue," Balin hisses and glances behind him at the curious Iron Hill dwarves. The last thing he needs is for Dain to find out about Thorin's abusive past with his grandfather's alcoholism. He glares at Dwalin before he sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

Dwalin is right after all. Thorin turning to alcohol has never been a good sign. He must've been so desperate to just relieve some of the pain of Bilbo's death that he'd found solace in alcohol.

He doesn't want to think about _where_ he got it from, and he hopes it's none of Thrain's special ale he had stored in every kitchen in every nook and cranny. It's beyond a doubt ridiculously pungent now, and the hangovers one got when it was fresh were bad enough.

"Where is he?" Balin finally asks, and Dwalin coughs once more before answering.

"Nori has taken him to his rooms, I believe. Although I don't know how he would've gotten past the guards," Dwalin says with frustration, "news will be all over the kingdom by morning if he hasn't done it properly."

"You wouldn't have done any better," Balin chastises, "in fact less so. At least Nori has skills in _lying_."

Dwalin looks miffed but Balin pays no attention as he turns to Dain. He doesn't have to say anything though as Dain just inclines his head and points to the door.

"Contrary to popular belief," Dain says, "I do actually care for my cousin. Go and help him, I will hold the fort here. The others have not arrived and I can turn them away if you are not back in time, Balin."

Balin stares at him long and hard for a moment before he speaks. "You've been undermining him since the moment you got here," Balin says, "what has changed?"

Dain looks regretful as he glances at his clenched hands. "I saw no other way," he replies, "I'm not a politician, Balin. I'm a warrior. I know you haven't thought well of me for years and I was convinced I was going to meet resistance as soon as I came here. There's been unrest in the opinions on Thorin's right to rule, and I saw that as an advantage to use."

"So your complete _asshole_ attitude was just a tactic then?"

"Indeed," and Dain smiles as he moves forward to claps his hand down on Balin's shoulder. "One I foolishly used," he continues, "as I said, I am a warrior not a politician. But I must look out for my people first and I worried too much about the past on my way to Erebor and in my head I saw no way other than to push Thorin off the throne."

"And now?"

"Now?" Dain laughs as he squeezes Balin's shoulder before moving away, "now I will support Thorin in every way I possibly can. I respect him, and I admire his attitude and dedication. After all, he is kin, and he is a much better ruler than myself. I'm not a bad man, Balin. Stop seeing me as one."

Balin is speechless at that. He stares at Dain's warm smile and wonders if maybe he'd been foolish himself in judging Dain too harshly. He is a good man, Balin has always said that, but he realizes that he's never actually _meant_ it until now. He has to admit that holding grudges over past grievances has never been a good thing.

"I'm sorry," he eventually croaks out and Dain looks confused. "I allowed myself to think that you were intending to take over Erebor. I know now that was never your intention, and it was me who has damaged your reputation."

"I've never really had a good one anyway," Dain snorts, "Mother did always use to say I was too pigheaded. Too blunt."

"The others…" Balin sighs and runs a hand over his face and it's surprisingly Dwalin who steps forward to speak for him.

"None of us think ill of you," Dwalin fills in, "except Oin. But Oin hates everyone. As does Nori. Never be offended by their opinions. The current situation with Bilbo is not helping but-"

"Is that why you're not standing at Thorin's side then?" Dain interrupts, and Dwalin falls silent beside Balin. "After all, I thought that you two were as thick as thieves. Which, speaking of, I am use to Oin and Nori's dislike of me. Nori's always had a chip in his shoulder for nobility and Oin decided I was greedy after I asked for a two bandages when I hit my knee in the halls here when we were younger. It is not unusual."

"You're still an ass," Balin finally manages to say, "and you're still overly brutal with negotiations now."

Dain laughs. "I was never a very good negotiator in the first place," he chuckles, "Thorin's just aways been a terribly rude one so I looked kind in comparison."

It's such a change to see Dain be… well, _Dain_ again. Balin sees the young boy he once knew before Nain took him away long ago, and he can't help but smile to himself.

"Thorin?" he does ask after a moment because after all there is still a problem at hand, and Dain nods his head.

"Go, I'll hold the fort."

He doesn't need anymore permission than that, Balin decides, as he gestures at Dwalin and hurries towards Thorin's quarters. They don't speak as they walk, both on edge over the situation and Balin stews over Dain's words. When they hit the corridor that has Thorin's rooms they see a frustrated Nori walking towards them.

"Nori, lad," Balin greets as he stops in front of him, "is he alright?"

"Oh he's just _marvelous_ ," Nori hisses, surprising Balin with his attitude.

"Nori-" Dwalin starts but Nori shakes his head.

"You left me to deal with a drunk monstrosity," he mutters as he pushes past Dwalin, "its your turn with him. I've had enough Thorin for one day. I'm off to bed."

Balin stands in shock for a moment as he watches Nori go before exchanging a look with Dwalin. It's silently agreed between them that Balin will be the only one who goes in, and with a nod at the guards he enters the room.

He instantly see Thorin sitting by the fireplace with a blanket over his knees and a mug in hand. The bed looks rumpled and Balin thinks that Nori must've struggled to keep him tucked in and might've just moved him, and the steam coming off of the mug confirms that he is not drinking more ale.

"Ah, Balin," Thorin sighs quietly. "I was wondering when you were going to turn up."

"I've been told that you've gotten yourself in a pickle, lad," Balin replies as he moves over and settles into the chair beside Thorin. It's not particularly comfortable, hardly king material, but he knows that Thorin has been 'punishing' himself for Bilbo in many ways than one.

"Nori?" Thorin asks, but doesn't wait for Balin's reply, "never mind. It's not important. I am fine, Balin. I'll finish this bizarre concoction that Nori's given me, apparently something that prevents the majority of a hangover, and then I'll go to bed. I don't need a babysitter." He pins Balin with a look. "Or a lecture."

Balin purses his lips as he regards Thorin before he sighs. "You've been foolish," he says, ignoring the last part of Thorin's speech, "I know-"

"What do you know, Balin?" Thorin interrupts with a very cold voice, "tell me _exactly_ what you know of losing a one? I'm very curious to hear this."

He flounders for a moment, unsure of what to say. He knows that he really has no place in speaking about One's of all things, but he does know quite a bit in dealing with deaths and… oh, he does know they're not the same thing but that doesn't mean they're too different. Right?

"Thorin-"

"You've never had a One before, Balin," Thorin hisses and his hands are tight around his mug, his knuckles white with strain. "You cannot comment on that you do not know. And for once? Consider it a _blessing_ that you have never had to experience this."

"That is wrong, Thorin," Balin snaps back, "it is wrong to tell a dwarf that not having a One is a blessing. I forever feel as if I am missing a part of myself. It's almost as if they are _dead_."

"But they're not! They're alive somewhere despite not meeting them! Unlike my own who lies rooms away dying, and I cannot even bring myself to gaze upon him!"

"That is yours to own," Balin argues, "no one else's. Do not try to push your guilt upon others. It is highly un-king like."

"Oh, and what does that matter?" Thorin snarls as he slams his mug on the table and starts to rise to his feet. "It's not like any of you see me as a king. You can't even say I am _your_ king. Don't think I have not heard that in your speech. Bofur, Ori, Bombur, Fili… they are the only ones who address me as their King. Nori, Nori has never called anyone king but _you_. _You_ are the one who has always pushed me to be the best I could be! And Dwalin is right behind you! Neither of you like the results though. I am who you've all made me to be."

"No!" Balin denies as he too rises to his feet. "That is not true, Thorin, and you know that!"

"Why do you not just crown a new king?" Thorin demands as he takes a step forward and Balin has a moment of fear. "There is an heir and a spare, Fili would take up the mantle."

"Fili is too young-"

" _Fili_ will always do as he is told. If he is to be king, then he will and he will do it well." Thorin snorts, "after all, he does have yourself and Dwalin to care for him. You owe your loyalty to whoever holds the Durin's crown, not me."

"Our loyalty will always be to you," Balin insists and he feels his eyes burning, "you know that. You secured that the day your grandfather died and you became the one man I knew I would always follow, that I would always fight for."

"I'm not worth it-"

"You've fought and fought for years for your position," Balin says as he steps forward to place his hands on Thorin's shoulders. "You've fought to gain your reputation as one of the most just Kings. You've fought for your people and you've fought to get where you are now. Bilbo is dying, I understand your grief, but you can't let everything that you have fought for disappear because of it. Bilbo would never have wanted this-"

"Just because I fight," Thorin says quietly, "doesn't mean that I have never learned to love."

The pure heartbreak he sees on Thorin's face makes him feel guilty beyond reason, and Balin stands speechless for a long long moment as Thorin gives him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and shuffles towards the bed.

"Thorin-" he starts to say a few moments later, but as he turns around he only sees a lump on the bed piled high with blankets and furs and he falters.

"Goodnight, Balin," comes Thorin's soft voice, and Balin clenches his eyes against an onset of tears.

"Goodnight, Thorin."

 

…

 

**NORI POV**

Standing in corridors has never been fun, and Nori finds standing in corridors waiting for the king so he can sneak him out even _less_ fun.

Honestly, his nerves are slightly frayed at the moment. Never has he done anything this stupid. Well, there was one time with a human prince, but at least he was _paid_ to pull that stupid stunt. This he has to do for free.

"Wait for my signal, he said," Nori mutters to himself, "I'll be quick, he said. Well, quick you most certainly are _not_ , dammit!"

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

It goes to show how long he's spent around Bofur that he doesn't even flinch when the dwarf pops up out of nowhere, and instead he just gives him an irritated look before turning to stare at the stone wall in front of him. Bofur just chuckles though and moves closer, and Nori doesn't like to think that he does in fact relax as Bofur's arm brushes his.

"I thought guards waited outside the chamber doors, not down the corridor," Bofur asks as he kicks back to lean against the wall beside Nori, "and there are two that stand watch, not three."

"Your point being?"

"What are you doing?"

Nori huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he tilts his head to look at Bofur. "None of your business," he says, "and even if it was, I wouldn't tell you."

"So it's something questionable then?"

The look on Bofur's face is one of success when Nori struggles for an answer. He hates this, how Bofur can reduce him to opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He use to be so good with words and bailing himself out of situations, and now he's like some child who claims they haven't eaten the cake when it's actually all over their face.

"What is it?" Bofur presses, "drugs? Smuggling? Weird place to be meeting your contact. I mean, personally I would've gone for something more quiet and subtle instead of right outside the King's chambers-"

"That's where you're wrong," Nori interrupts, "the louder and busier it is, the better.  The more people there are the more you can just blend in."

"See, now _that_ is useful to know," Bofur decides with a grin as he pats Nori's shoulder, "all the rest of your secret spy stuff is rubbish to apply to everyday things."

Nori has to resist a smile and ends up rolling his eyes instead. Bofur snorts from beside him, and it's obvious that he clearly hasn't hidden all of his smile. Although he forgets his exasperation as Bofur somehow moves closer and nudges him with his shoulder.

"Really though, what are you doing?"

"I can't tell you, Bofur."

"Why not?"

Nori glares at him and shoves him away. "Because it's a secret," he says, "you know what a secret is? Something you can't share with gabber-jaws like you."

Bofur doesn't even look offended as he grins. "I'm not a gossip, Nori," he says and Nori shakes his head. 

It's true though. If Bofur was in fact a gossip then the story of Nori and Dwalin having to do a run through the upper markets completely nude while Thorin watched on laughing would've been known throughout the kingdom by now. Clearly it hasn't as they're both still well respected, and he leans back against the wall once more as Bofur shuffles closer.

He doesn't say anything though, and Nori watches him out of the corner of his eye. He's amused and befuddled as to why Bofur looks nervous, and he watches the way Bofur wrings his hands and open and closes his mouth multiple times before Nori sighs.

"Spit it out then," he mutters, and Bofur jumps in surprise, "you're just irritating me now."

"I…" Bofur hesitates for a moment, and that's what gets Nori's attention. Bofur _never_ hesitates. "I just was… do you know what it's like to have a One?"

The question takes him by surprise and he flounders for a moment as he stares at Bofur. A question about _Ones_? What on earth is that about?

"Why do you ask?" he finally manages to say, and Bofur blushes as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. Nori watches in amusement as Bofur pushes his hat up and down on his head and he seems to contemplate Nori's question before he drops his hand and offers Nori a shy smile.

"I was just wondering if you knew what it felt like. Apparently it's supposed to be like a fire, ripping through you in great streams of heat. And then apparently it's supposed to be this calming wave that washes over you multiple times until you're so full you could burst!"

"How poetic," Nori groans, and Bofur grins at him.

"But… but I have this feeling that having a One isn't all passion and heat. I mean, what _I_ feel-"

"You have a One?" Nori cuts off, and he's embarrassed to feel a small surge of panic. Bofur has a One? But… but that's not… no. No, he doesn't want to think about this.

Bofur looks at him with a small smile and he reaches out to touch Nori's shoulder. "Don't be silly," he says with that smile, " _you_ should know that."

The way he says it makes Nori feel sick. He can't deny his feelings for Bofur have gone beyond friendship. Ever since Bofur drew up that blasted barrel and scolded him for eating an apple with a knife he's been falling for him. Every touch felt like home, every word sounded so rich to his ears, every smile made his knees weak and every laugh made his head light… and Nori _hates_ how much of a _sap_ he is for the dwarf in front of him.

Not that it matters if apparently he's met his _One_.

"Is it one of the Iron Hill dwarves?" he asks with gritted teeth, "by saying I should know are you meaning that Rodhur you've been mining with lately? You did seem cosy when you introduced me-"

"What? No!" Bofur interrupts as he's shaking his head madly, "no! Rodhur is a _friend_. He's not my One."

"I don't want to know," Nori snaps and he pulls away from Bofur's touch. Bofur looks hurt at that, and Nori doesn't want to think about it. Instead he turns to stare back down the hall towards Thorin's door and angrily curses the king for not hurrying the hell up.

"Nori, do you… do you not know?" Bofur asks quietly behind him, and Nori grits his teeth and refuses to answer. "Oh, _Nori_. You're so unobservant for your profession."

Nori almost yelps when suddenly he's whirled around and his back is being pressed up against a wall. It's a testament once again to how comfortable he is around Bofur that he doesn't even try to stop him, although he does slam his hands into Bofur's shoulders and pushes him back.

"What the hell-"

"It's _you_ , Nori," Bofur interrupts, and Nori instantly falls silent, "it's _you_ who is my One! I can't believe that… I was just…"

Nori honestly can't find words as he hears those words, and his mouth works up and down at the thought that Bofur is… is his One?

It doesn't make sense. Bofur was right earlier. Finding your One is supposed to be an all consuming thing. He's supposed to be all but drawn to Bofur's arms and vice versa, and considering they didn't speak for the first ten or so days after the Company was formed he highly doubts that this can be _true_.

"I asked Ori," Bofur says softly, "and he brought up some records for me to look at. Apparently finding your One can happen in many different ways. Some know from the start like Ori and Dwalin, some never know who their One could be until their first touch like Bombur and his wife, some need an event to trigger the connection like Bilbo and Thorin. And sometimes it doesn't come in a sudden rush. Bifur told me once that my aunt and uncle were best friends for years but it wasn't until my aunts mother died that it triggered off their connection and even _then_ it was still a slow build and-"

"So this is like theirs then?" Nori interrupts as Bofur turns a bright red from talking so fast, "slow build and maybe… maybe triggered?"

"Bilbo was our trigger," Bofur agrees as he steps forward and his eyes are watery and his smile bright, "I felt drawn to you and remember? I could hardly explain it. It's been weeks now and we've developed and now every time you touch me I feel at home, every time you talk it's like music to my ears and every time you-"

"-smile your knees go weak, and my laugh makes your head light?" Nori asks in disbelief and Bofur's grin goes even wider.

"And you feel the same," he says with such conviction that Nori would agree even if it weren't true, "you know that we're each others One's."

It's hard for him to believe. He stares at Bofur, looks at the grin and the gentle blush on his cheeks and he suddenly feels so overwhelmed as he presses back against the wall. He's never expected something like this to happen to him. His life has always been so.. well, _hectic_ that he's never had time to slow down think about One's. But now Bofur is in front of him and offering something that Nori doesn't know if he should accepted and...

"I've never thought-" he starts.

"Well, you're not really supposed to think about these things, Nori," Bofur laughs breathlessly as he moves even closer, "in fact, you're actually supposed to just shut up and kiss me."

He moves his head forward, and Nori is suddenly very surprised by the soft feeling of Bofur's lips pressing against his own. It feels… different, he decides as he slowly opens his mouth and Bofur pulls him away from the wall and slings his arms around Nori's hips. It takes him even more by surprise and he gasps as Bofur takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

He's been kissed before. No doubt about it. But this feels so completely natural after a few moments that he closes his eyes, reaches up to knock Bofur's hat to the ground and buries his hands in that soft hair that's always been so tempting. Bofur pulls back momentarily to chuckle and Nori's eyes flutter open to see mirthful blue eyes staring right back before Bofur is crushing him right up against the wall.

It's like a fire in his veins followed by waves of water crashing down and leaving him steaming, and Nori thinks he needs to remember that to tell Bofur later. His hands tighten in Bofur's hair and Bofur pulls Nori's leg up to wrap around his hips and Nori gasps at how _wonderful_ it feels as Bofur presses him harder and harder up against the wall until he's pulling away and gasping for breath.

"If this is what it's like to have you for a One," Bofur pants as he presses their foreheads together, "then consider me hooked."

"Did you just use a drug analogy?" Nori asks in disbelief and Bofur's eyes twinkle as he grins.

"Shut up and kiss me again," Bofur demands, and Nori doesn't have to think twice before he drags Bofur down into another heated kiss that sets every nerve in his body alight.

Of course, right then is the perfect time for someone to clear their throat, and Nori pulls away only to see Thorin standing behind them with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't think you were in the right space to hear my signal," Thorin says and Nori definitely hears the smugness in his tone, "so I just thought I'd come get you instead."

And for the first time in a very long time, Nori blushes.

 

…

 

**FILI POV**

" _Fili_!"

Fili jumps at hearing his name being yelled down the walkway and he glances around to see none other Dain sprinting towards him. He frowns at that, wondering just what has the great dwarven lord in a flap, and he flicks out his walking cane to lean on as he waits for Dain to skid to a stop.

"Yes, Dain?" he asks politely after the dwarf has caught his breath back, and Dain gives him a grateful smile before he stands up straight and speaks.

"Our King has disappeared," Dain says, "vanished from his rooms with no sight."

That sentence is enough to make Fili's grip on his cane shake, and he stares at Dain in disbelief. Disappeared? Vanished? But… Thorin wouldn't leave them would he?

"Have you sent men to search for him?" Fili asks weakly, and Dain thankfully moves forward to steady Fili before he falls over. He's still not stable, not after weeks and weeks of therapy, and he grits his teeth as he accepts Dain's aid.

"I already have men scouring the levels for him," Dain says, "and I have sent messengers to the three other diplomats in the halls as well as Bard the Bowman in Dale. Dwalin has been informed and he has gathered some of the Company to look for Thorin themselves."

Fili nods his head before he asks, "has my brother been told yet?"

Dain shakes his head. "We assume he is once more at Dale as he is not in his rooms and according to Dori he left yesterday to visit the city with a group of builders who have also not returned. The messengers will bring him back with them if they are able to locate him."

"And the Company? Are they all accounted for?"

The fact that Dain hesitates makes Fili's eyes narrow as he stands up a little straighter.

"There is one missing," Dain finally says fate a tense moment, "Nori."

Fili's first thought is to be thankful that wherever his Uncle is, at least he took a skilled warrior and the sneakiest bastard around with him. He can't get into much trouble with Nori hovering over his every move, but at the same time he possibly could because, well, _Nori_.

His second thought though is the sudden realisation that this must've been planned. Thorin disappearing must have been planned and he balls his hand into fist as he turns to glare at Dain.

"We must find him," he snaps, and Dain nods.

"We will try, Fili," he says softly before he reaches out and touches Fili's shoulder gently, "but he's been gone for hours now. I've been trying to find you for the same length of time. We've been unsuccessful and I'm not quite positive that we will ever find him. Not with Nori on his side."

"What are you saying, Dain?"

Dain looks pained as he squeezes Fili's shoulder. "You're the acting King now."

Fili's stomach rolls at the same time as a wave of nausea comes over him. He drops his forehead against Dain's arm and takes deep breaths to fight it away as he starts to repeat Dain's words over and over again in his head.

He can't be King. Or acting King. Whatever. He can't, he just can't because he's not ready for this. He's barely past adulthood. He hasn't learnt everything he needs to learn and… he _can't_.

"Find Thorin," he orders quickly as he pulls away from Dain, "and leave me. I need time to… to…"

"To process?" Dain finishes uncertainly, but smiles sadly when Fili nods. "I understand," he says as he waits for Fili to rearrange his weight onto his cane before he leaves. Fili is thankful for that, and he takes a deep breath once Dain has disappeared from sight.

He glances over the edge of the walkway with a frown. He can't remember why he came up here all of a sudden, and he crushes his palm to his forehead as he tries to think. Something about Bombur and Bofur talking about constructions and… he grits his teeth. He can't _remember_.

If its important then they'll ask him again, he decides as he starts to limp away. His leg no longer twinges as much except for when he walks too fast, and he's learnt to balance when walking. Standing still has always been a problem though and the way Oin looks at him makes him think that it might always be. Apparently his muscles have healed differently to his other leg and meant that one side is weaker than the other. Recovering from that will take a long time.

He hobbles through the halls at a reasonable pace. He sees half the dwarves in a flap, whether over constructions or their missing king or maybe if shit has just rolled down hill and these are the dwarf's that will have their asses kicked if things are done. The other half though looks confused but relatively calm as they greet Fili before being swept away by frustrated dwarves. It's chaos and Fili wonders just _how_ he's going to put up with this if Thorin doesn't return.

Because at the end of the day, Thorin would've taken Nori for the simple reason that Nori could get them out undetected and could hide them from anything. Fili doesn't know why they left, but he knows they won't be returning until Thorin decides it's time.

Somehow he ends up at the infirmary. Dwalin isn't by any of the doors and that doesn't surprise him. He hopes that Dwalin is regretting not being by Thorin's side now as he knows the dwarf will be feeling guilty, and he hates how _vindictive_ that sounds.

"A King must be just and fair, Fili," Fili mutters to himself, "not a complete _ass_."

He moves along the infirmary and pauses outside of Bilbo's door. It's been a long time since he's visited the hobbit, and he wonders if now would be appropriate. He decides he doesn't care though and pushes the door open to stumble in.

It's empty besides Bilbo lying unmoving on the bed, and Fili purses his lips as he limps around. The clacking of his cane on the ground rings through the room and makes him feel so very alone.

"Hey Bilbo," he says quietly as he settles into the seat at the head of Bilbo's bed, "it's been a while. I'm sorry I haven't been by."

There's no response. Not that he'd really expected one. He looks over Bilbo narrowly and notes how sweaty the hobbit looks and the shallow breathing. He spots a bowl on a table beside him and he sees it filled with water with a cloth beside it. Slowly he stands and shuffles over to squeeze the cloth out and dab the cool material on Bilbo's forehead.

Bilbo's skin is hot to touch, Fili realizes as his knuckles brush Bilbo's face, and he winces as he continues to dab away the build up of sweat. It's awful to see Bilbo like this, and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself before he continues to dampen Bilbo's face and wash away the sweat.

"Thorin's disappeared," he mumbles as he works. "Dain's stepped in which I am thankful for. I don't know what can be done except for sending out search parties, but I know we won't succeed in finding him. He's taken Nori with him and… well, when Nori doesn't want to be found he isn't found." He pauses to tilt Bilbo's head and reach around to start wiping his neck. "I don't know why he's gone. Maybe he's finally snapped? We've all be waiting for it to happen. Doesn't mean that I wanted Thorin to snap, but it was bound to happen. You're his One after all, and it's not common for a dwarf to survive their One's… dying."

It hurts him to say those words, and he pauses once more to wonder if this was a good idea after all. Maybe he should go and find Dain once more to discuss the plans of his temporary kingship?

He dips the cloth back into the water and starts to run it over Bilbo's hair to give it a light clean. "Mother has always told me that even if you're sick it's good to at least attempt to make an appearance," Fili explains quietly, "and it looks like you might need some help with that, right Mr Baggins?"

Of course once again there's no reply, and Fili feels as if he's drowning in the silence. It's nice to have a moment to himself, but there are so many suffocating thoughts pushing down on him that he can't breath. His eyes sting with tears as he looks down at Bilbo, and he bites his lip as he turns back to the bowl.

He loses his balance though, his feet slipping on water he hadn't realised he'd dripped on the ground, and he can't find his balance as his bad leg won't take his weight, so with a cry he tumbles to the floor. His hand flies out to catch something, but it only lands on the bowl which promptly falls off the table and smashes in front of him. His bad leg slams into the stone and pain radiates up his body with such intensity that he feels like puking as he struggles for breath while his palms slip in the water and he falls face first into the floor.

He stays still for a moment, gasping, soaking wet, in agonizing pain, and he can't force back his tears as they stream down his face. It's his leg, it's always his _leg_. The blasted thing hasn't gotten better and it's been weeks since the orc destroyed it and...

Fili struggles to sit up before he looks over and sees Bilbo. Bilbo, who's just lying still in that blasted coma and suddenly a boiling hot rage appears.

"This is all _your_ fault," he snarls with his hands balled into fists, "you and your stupid bravery! You weren't being brave when you ran out onto that battlefield, Bilbo. You were being a _nuisance_. If it weren't for you being unable to hold your own then none of this would've happened! Kili and I wouldn't have been distracted, and I wouldn't have gotten this permeant _limp_ that's left me a bloody invalid that everyone keeps _pitying_. You wouldn't have passed out like some damsel in bloody distress and left Dwalin scrambling to help you only for _him_ to get swarmed by orcs. Even Gloin and Bifur couldn't get to you in time before you were out cold! Which left us all being completely _massacred_ before that great big bloody bear man came flying out of nowhere to help us."

He struggles to get up so he can glare down at Bilbo, but he does and he leans heavily on the table as the pain still rocks him enough to make him sag. "You're the one who has this kingdom falling down around our ears," he hisses, "it's because you appeared on that forsaken battlefield that Thorin has gone missing, that the company is split, that I no longer can see my brother because he's too busy blaming Thorin for all of this when it's _you_ that we should all be blaming! Ori says it was the orcs fault, but the orcs weren't the ones who ran out on that battlefield with some charming fairytale in his head about how he was going to dramatically save Thorin without even considering _everyone else_."

The urge to hit something is so strong, and Fili grinds his teeth in an attempt to hold the urge back. He still pounds his fist into the wooden table though, and it seems to release some of his anger.

"I've lost my family because of you," he mutters, "Thorin to the madness of losing his One, Kili to guilt and anger, the Company to blame and rage, even _you_ to this coma. I've lost it all, and now I'm being forced into being acting king because my Uncle has run away on some fools mission no doubt. Balin is in no fit state to help me. Dain is trying to help but he's only a Lord of the Iron Hills, he has no power…"

He pauses as he thinks about that. "Maybe," he starts, "maybe I'll hand the crown to Dain. At least until Thorin comes back. He'll do right by the kingdom, I know he will. Balin may hate him, but Dain is the only one I know who hasn't been… _affected_ by you."

Tears are still running down his face and he lifts a hand to wipe them away. "You just had to do it, didn't you?" Fili murmurs as he sinks down beside Bilbo's bed with his leg screaming in protest, "you just had to try and be a hero. Hobbit's were made for armchairs and gardens, not battlefields and war."

Words fail him after that. Instead he silently curls up against Bilbo's bed with his head resting against Bilbo's arm and his knees pressing against his chest. He huddles in a ball and wraps his arms around himself as he ignores the pain, ignores the tears, ignores everything and closes his eyes.

"We're not supposed to be heros," he whispers into the silence of the room, "we're supposed to _live_."

 

…

 

**LEGOLAS POV**

He hadn't anticipated stumbling across two dwarves when he'd been doing his rounds in the forest with Tauriel. Let alone one of them being the dwarfish king his father has a vendetta against, and the other being the one who'd attempted to rob Legolas blind when they'd been captured and dragged into the cells months ago.

His first thought is to shoot them on spot, but he's stopped by Tauriel placing her hand on his arrow and pushing it down. 

"Look," she says as she points at the king, "he's fading."

Legolas does notice it when he looks closer. The king looks dull compared to his bright companion, almost like an elf when they begin to fade after losing their love one, and Legolas reluctantly puts the arrow away as the two dwarves approach them.

The king speaks slowly and carefully as he requests an audience with Thranduil. Legolas stays quiet and allows Tauriel to do the speaking. He takes the time to look him over, noting the vacant look in the king's eyes, the slump of his shoulders, the dullness of the air around him, and he purses his lips as he wonders what great loss the king must be suffering for such a pride man to look so… _broken_.

It's only because King Thorin reminds him of Thranduil after Legolas's mother died that he agrees to take them for an audience with his father. Tauriel looks shocked at his decision, and he ignores her in favour of gesturing for the two dwarves to follow him. The walk to the gates is not as fast as he would like, but they walk it in an agreeable silence.

After assuring the guards that the dwarves are here on peaceful business he escorts them to where his father is sitting on his throne. Thranduil smiles at Legolas as he crosses the walkway, but his smile disappears once he sees Tauriel and his expression becomes stony once he sees King Thorin.

Legolas wonders for a moment if this really was a good idea, but he hopes his father will see King Thorin fading much like an elf. Maybe then he will be lenient in whatever it is King Thorin will ask of him.

Tauriel joins him at the side of the throne. She looks worried and when Legolas glances at his father he can see why. Thranduil looks cold and unforgiving as King Thorin greets him politely.

"Do you think he has come for help?" Tauriel asks quietly, "maybe with his fading?"

"I don't believe dwarves believe in such a thing as fading, Tauriel," he whispers back, "maybe they believe he is simply suffering from battle. I understand that he was wounded badly enough for the dwarven healer to ask for our aid. The king's nephews were hurt more so. I tended to one of them with a broken arm. I healed it as much as possible, but it would still have taken weeks to come right."

"Kili," Tauriel provides, and Legolas nods as the name rings a bell, "and the other is Fili. Gandalf asked me to aid them with the recovery of Fili but there was too much damage in his leg for us to mend… he will be limping for a long time, if not the rest of his life."

That might explain King Thorin's dullness, Legolas thinks. Maybe he is suffering from not only his own wounds, but the ones of his nephews as well?

"No one can fade as much as he has from just pain and grief for his nephews," Legolas finally mumbles, "there must be something else."

Tauriel agrees before she turns towards the others. Legolas looks over as well to see the thief standing behind his king with an awkward look as Thranduil bears down on King Thorin.

"I humbly ask for your aid, King Thranduil," King Thorin is saying, and Legolas frowns. It's not often a dwarf will willing come to a elf for aid, especially not one who they share animosity with.

"And why should I?" Thranduil snarks, "why should I aid _you_ who has spat on my honour more times than I can count? Who has gone back on his word? Who is the grandson of a lying king and who has _succumbed_ to a madness that caused a war that nearly killed not only my elves but a fair number of your own kin as well?"

"You have not been innocent in your own actions, Thranduil," King Thorin snaps back, "you, who did not come to our aid, who locked us away in dungeons, who has done nothing but followed his own greed-"

"Do not speak to me of greed!" Thranduil interrupts, "do not dare lecture me on greed when it is _you_ who has cause a war because of greed! Who is to blame for the condition of this hobbit you so badly wish us to help!"

King Thorin looks speechless as he stands still gaping, and Legolas hates his fathers smug smirk as he turns away and starts to walk back to his throne.

"I will not help you, Thorin, King Under the Mountain, nor the hobbit," Thranduil drones, "begone from my presence. Before I have my guards escort you with as much force as I command."

Legolas winces at those words and exchanges a look with Tauriel. Even she looks horrified at Thranduil's actions, and Legolas has half a mind to step forward and say something but King Thorin beats him to it.

"He is my One," King Thorin murmurs as he takes a few steps forward and Legolas watches as Thranduil's back stiffens as he turns to look at Thorin in morbid curiosity. "This hobbit is my One. He is dying and there is nothing we can do to stop it. We have tried everything we can think of, all of my best healers and Lord Dain's have been attempting to save him. But there are three infections in his system that will… that will kill him." He pauses to look up at Thranduil with mournful eyes. "I love him, and I fear that I will lose more than just my mind if he dies."

The confirmation that King Thorin is in fact _fading_ is all Legolas needs as he steps forward to stand at the dwarf's side.

"He is fading, father," he says firmly, and Thranduil turns slowly to stare down at him, "and he is fading fast. He cannot be lying about this."

Thranduil looks torn for a brief moment as he regards King Thorin, and Legolas knows he is looking closer now. He can see that his father is noticing how dull King Thorin looks, and he hopes that his father will be lenient for once.

"It is a terrible thing to lose ones soulmate," Thranduil finally says after a long moment, "as I know from experience. Losing Legolas's mother made me lose a part of myself I will never gain back."

"You know how it feels."

"That I do, King Thorin," Thranduil agrees quietly before he gives King Thorin a smile that's so sad it breaks Legolas's heart. "But I still cannot aid you. Our kingdom agreements are still too fragile, I cannot trust you, and you must deal with the consequences of your own actions."

Legolas feels a rage he has not felt in a long time at his fathers words, and he stands alongside Tauriel and the two dwarves gaping at his fathers _coldness_ and complete disregard. Thranduil doesn't hover though after his words, and he merely bows in front of King Thorin before he turns and disappears down the walkway.

There is a heavy silence for a moment, before suddenly there is a loud sob and Legolas looks down in surprise to King Thorin covering his face.

"We have failed, Nori," he murmurs, and the other dwarf rushes forward to support his king. "We have failed Bilbo, we've _failed_."

"Thorin-"

Legolas decides not to wait. He turns to Tauriel and merely points at the dwarves before he leaves to follow his father. She seems to understand though, and he watches as she places her hand on King Thorin's shoulder right before he breaks into a jog to catch up to his father.

"Father!" he calls as he spots him at the end of another walkway. Thranduil stops in place and glances over his shoulder at him, and Legolas rushes a bit faster until he stands in front of his father.

"Yes, Legolas?" 

"You cannot make that decision," Legolas states with conviction, "you _cannot_. You saw him! You saw how he has fading. You know how it feels to lose a soulmate, and yet you are willing to condemn King Thorin to a fate as worse as your own?"

"I had you," Thranduil disagrees, and Legolas just shakes his head.

"And he does not have a child of his own," he points out, "he will vanish. There is nothing holding him here other than the hope that his hobbit may live. If Bilbo Baggins dies, then so with the King Under the Mountain."

"There will be more."

"Don't be foolish!" Legolas cries, and he doesn't know where his bravery has come from, "and don't be so _cruel_. I love you, father, but if you are willing to allow a king to fade over a petty vendetta then I must rethink who you _really_ are."

Thranduil stands still and looks at him unemotionally for a long moment. Long enough that Legolas begins to feel uncomfortable. He is tempted to apologize for a moment, but luckily his father does choose to speak before he does.

"I have no intentions on allowing the hobbit to die," Thranduil says quietly. "I would never allow another to go through the same pain that I have, and I would not allow King Thorin to suffer. After all, I made a promise to Thrain that I would watch over King Thorin when he ascended the throne."

Legolas stares at him in shock. "You did?"

"Before Smaug came," his father explains with a small smile, "I spent many a week at Erebor in negotiations with Thror. I met Thorin when he was a young boy. He may not remember now, but he was infatuated with elves when he was younger. His father took the opportunity to strike up an unlikely friendship and asked me to promise to look after his son once he'd passed from this earth."

"And yet you never helped them when Erebor fell?"

Thranduil sighs. "I was so lost in my grief over losing your mother for so many years, that the idea of losing more elves to an unbeatable foe caused me to turn my back on the dwarves. I failed Thrain that day, and I hate to think what he thought of me before he died."

Legolas stands speechless at his fathers words. He'd never known that his father was once a friend with a Durin, and he honestly cannot believe it.

"I will be sending you," Thranduil continues with a hard look. "You will go and heal the hobbit. Aid them in anyway you can. I cannot go myself, but I will send you in my stead."

"But you said-"

"What I said, and what I intend, is very different," Thranduil scolds before he moves forward and cups Legolas's neck. "Go. Heal the hobbit and stop a dwarven king from going mad."

Legolas stares at his father for a long moment, wondering just how much he doesn't know about him, before he nods and presses his forehead against his fathers.

"I will," he says, and Thranduil's hand tightens on the back of his neck.

 

…

 

**OIN POV**

Whoever had the bright idea to pile everyone into Bilbo's infirmary room wasn't the smartest. Oin feels particularly squished as he sits on a stool between Ori, who's clicking away with his darn knitting needles, and Dori, especially as the two keep _bickering_ over the whereabouts of their brother.

Down by Bilbo's bedside sitting on the ground is Fili who Oin had to check on when he'd walked in the room two days ago. He'd felt no small amount of panic at seeing the young prince curled up with tears dried on his face and a hollow look in his eyes. The boy had simply asked for Dain though and hasn't moved since except for when Oin has requested he move so as to exercise his buggered leg more.

Two days the prince had been sitting there, and now they're all crowded around and not one seems to realise that Fili's grip on reality has disappeared just like his Uncle.

Gloin and Bifur are in a heated argument on the other side of the room. Both lean with their backs against the wall as they squabble in Khuzdul. Oin doesn't both to get involved with that. There's no point.

Bofur and Kili sit on stools at Bilbo's bedside. Seeing Kili had been a shock, and Oin had instantly demanded to see his arm. It seems the boy has got all feeling back in everything but the tip of his fingers and his thumb. Oin thinks the boy should count his lucky stars that those are the only lasting side effects. If that elf maiden hadn't been around then it's likely the boy would've lost all feeling and had a dead arm for the rest of his life.

Bofur is looking at Fili with narrowed eyes, and Oin is thankful that it looks like someone notices the prince. He's angry that Kili hasn't gone to his brothers side, and he wonders if maybe that's what Bofur is hissing at him.

Dwalin is sitting by the door with his back against the wall. His head is resting in his hands and Oin knows that the guilt that Bilbo is dying and the king has disappeared is eating the other dwarf up. Bombur sits beside him murmuring words that Oin can't hear, but Dwalin nods his head every now and again and Oin thinks that maybe Bombur can handle this.

Finally Balin is sitting at the end of Bilbo's bed staring at the hobbit with blank eyes. His hand rests on Bilbo's knee over the covers, and Oin feels for his old friend who can't seem to wrap his head around anything.

They're all miserable. All lost, and confused. They're losing Bilbo, the king is gone, Fili has lost any will he had, Kili has no interest in anything other than _blame_ , Dain is struggling with the kingdom and Balin can barely get up in the morning let alone keep anyone afloat.

It's like they're drowning, and no one can help them.

"All I'm saying," Dori mutters from beside him, "is that no one knows where this bloody arkenstone seems to have gone."

"Well maybe it's none of your business, Dori," Ori scolds back, and Oin wants to groan as he tilts his head back against the wall. They've been arguing for what feels like hours, and he regrets sitting between the two who'd already looked to be in a set-to when he'd walked in.

"Well you'd think it would be considering it's what we all spent _days_ looking for. And then suddenly it's just disappeared? I don't think so."

"It's been destroyed," Balin suddenly grunts as he looks over, and Oin opens one eye only to wince at the glare on Balin's face. "End of story."

"But," Ori pipes up with a frown. "it can't be destroyed. They tested it before they gave it to Thror to see if they could make smaller stones from it. It's indestructible."

"Apparently not if you drop it from a great height," Balin replies with a raised eyebrow. "Thorin climbed to the very top of this mountain. He told me to wait down bottom, and I was worried he mightn't go through with it. Next thing I knew there's a great crash and lying a few metres away from me was the broken shards of what was once the arkenstone."

"He gave the shards to me," Bofur continues with a grim smile. "Turns out that once the arkenstone is in smaller pieces it's easier to crush. I turned the rest of it into powder and Thorin scattered it across the battlefield."

Oin nods his head in agreement. He remembers Thorin mentioning something like that to him once but he hadn't really been listening since he was too busy trying to stop his useless assistant from accidentally loping off someones arm. He wonders where Gralf has gotten too actually. The lad said he'd be here, but Oin thinks he might've actually listened for once and gone and helped the lads with the fevers down the hall.

"Did… did he actually do that?" Kili asks quietly, and everyone turns to look at him. Even Dwalin raises his head from his hands, and Bifur and Gloin stop their bickering.

"Of course he did," Fili suddenly snaps, and Oin glances over to see the young lad glaring at his brother with such red eyes that Kili visibly flinches, "our Uncle isn't a bad man, Kili. No matter how much you think he is."

"I don't-"

" _Yes_ you do!"

"Boys," Balin sighs, "please. Not now. It's not appropriate."

Both fall silent and Oin narrows his eyes. He doesn't blame Fili. He's mad at them all too, especially for the way they have treated Thorin. He watches as Fili gives Balin a look before he drops his head. He can see the tears building up at the corner of Fili's eyes, and when he glances around he realizes that _everyone_ is busy looking at Kili who's bottom lip is wobbling and he's staring at his brother like some _wounded_ animal.

It's when Balin reaches over and pats Kili's hand lightly that Oin's eyes narrow.

"What the hell are you doing," he snarls, and every person goes silent and stops moving. Good. There are pros to not speaking for the entire time they've all been stuck in this room.

"Oin?" Balin asks with a frown, but Oin shakes his head and cuts him off.

"You're comforting the boy that has been in the wrong," he snaps as he stands up and accidentally knocks into Dori, " _you_ are comforting the boy who has blamed his Uncle. Has left Erebor for days at a time. Who, when he is here, holes up in his room and hides from every responsibility. That has never once stood by his brother and supported him. The boy who cannot deal with his own grief and forces it upon others." He stops to glare at Kili who looks guilty and afraid. "You support _him_ , rather than Fili who has worked his _ass_ off to keep this kingdom afloat. Who has trekked up stairs with his bad leg, has walked corridors and unstable walkways with only one good leg just so that the workers see someone is grateful for their work. He has stood by Thorin's side and never question a decision. He has never allowed his petty anger at another dwarf get in the way of what is right for this kingdom. He has put aside his own grief, his own pain, his own insecurities to keep this kingdom running as smoothly as possible while _Kili_ has acted like a child."

He turns and glares at the rest of the room who all looks stunned. "When you walked into this room," he snapped, "who did you notice first? Kili who was sitting hunched over Bilbo looking fresh as day despite being sad? Or Fili who huddles in a corner looking wrecked and ruined, covered in tears and in constant pain? Did you notice the boy who has done nothing good for this kingdom yet? Or the boy who's dedicated his life to a kingdom he doesn't even know?"

The looks on all of their faces makes Oin feel proud. They're all looking at Fili, some with horror, some with guilty, some with shock. Fili looks at Oin those, and there's anger but also admiration in his glare, and Oin turns his back on the boy. He isn't doing this just for him. He's doing it for his own piece of mind.

Kili stands up after a long moment. "He's right," he says quietly, "Oin is right. I have done nothing for this kingdom. Although Fili has. Fili's looked after each and every one of you while I ran from my problems. Oin is right."

Everyone keeps glancing between the two brothers, and Oin wonders if anyone is going to say anything.

Not that it matters though as suddenly the door bursts open and their king comes rushing through with a mad look in his eye, Nori struggling to keep up and two… _elves_.

"Gods be damned," Oin mutters.

 

…

 

**NORI POV**

Out of all of the things that Nori had expected to see in his life, watching his younger brother fly out of his chair and slap Thorin soundly across the face was not amongst them.

"How dare you disappear on us!" Ori screams as Dwalin sprints forward and yanks a struggling Ori away from Thorin, "how dare you leave _Fili_ to struggle in your place! And all of us to be worried sick! Dwalin has been inconsolable for the last three days thanks to you! And everyone else has been not much better! Don't you dare do that ever again, Thorin Oakenshield or I will-"

Dwalin somehow manages to pull the furious Ori out of the room, and Nori has to stifle a laugh at the look on Thorin's face. He doesn't deny that he reaches for a high five as his brother is dragged past, because frankly he's been wanting to do that to Thorin for the past couple of days now.

Thorin just sighs though and turns to Oin to begin introducing him to Legolas and Tauriel. Nori can still hear Ori screeching in the hallway, but he decides against going out there when he sees Bofur smiling at him.

He quickly walks past the others and slides onto Bofur's lap. Almost instantly he relaxes, and he leans back into Bofur's arms as Bofur's nuzzles his face into Nori's neck.

"So you've succeeded then," Bofur mumbles, and Nori sighs as he nods.

"Somehow. Hopefully they can help us cure Bilbo. Otherwise there's just… well, there's no other option than to watch him slip away."

Bofur nods, and Nori tries not to think about the wetness on his shoulder. "How did you do it?" he asks quietly, and Nori reaches down to entwine their fingers together to try give Bofur some sort of comfort.

"Well, officially Legolas and Tauriel have run away with us because they disapprove of Thranduil's unwillingness to help," he answers as he strokes his thumb over Bofur's hand, "but unofficially, Thranduil sent them with us because he made a promise to Thrain years ago to protect Thorin. The idea of watching Thorin 'fade' was too much for Thranduil so he relented."

He can feel Bofur frowning against his shoulder and he grins when Bofur asks, "how do you know that?"

"I'm a good thief, Bofur," Nori chuckles as he wriggles until he's sitting sideways and Bofur's head is on his chest, "and a spy. All for a reason."

Bofur looks up at him with big eyes from under his hat, and Nori leans forward to take it off and rest his chin on the top of Bofur's head. It feels nice to just settle down for a moment with Bofur, even if the room around them is busy.

Oin and Tauriel are deep in conversation over Bilbo, and Thorin sits at the foot of Bilbo's bed with Fili hovering beside him. Balin has moved out into the corridor to calm Ori down alongside his brother, and to no doubt scold him also, but it's Legolas who interests him the most. He's standing beside Fili with his hand resting on the young princes shoulder, and Nori doesn't believe that he's imagine the faint glow radiating from his hand.

Fili looks to be relaxing though, and Nori notes that instead of just hovering beside Thorin he seems to be resting against him. Thorin appears to realise as well as his arm comes up to wrap around his nephews waist to hold him steady.

"Should've seen him earlier," Bofur mumbles against Nori's chest, "poor lad was a mess. I think after finding out that he would have to be acting king until Thorin was found shocked him too much. He's passed on the duty to Dain for now who has done a good job with holding the kingdom together."

"You've done a good job in getting all of the Company in one room," Nori muses, "how did you manage it?"

"I simply told Ori that Bilbo might benefit from having us all around him for a couple of days," Bofur says as he laughs. "It worked. Your brother is terrifying when he's on a mission."

Nori agrees with that, but instead of reply he simply slips his hand through the stray hat hair of Bofur's who hums pleasantly against Nori. Across from him he can see Dori watching them with a small smile, and he has to glance away as he feels his cheeks starting to heat up.

"Stand back everyone," Tauriel suddenly calls out, and Nori watches as she attempts to usher Thorin away before giving up when he only glares at her. They've turned Bilbo over onto his side, and Legolas appears between Bofur and Kili's chair. Kili quickly moves out of the way and goes to stand beside his brother, and Legolas moves over to place some weird watered down plant against the infection on Bilbo's hip.

Tauriel though has one hand on the back of Bilbo's head and the other on his back. Both wounds are also covered in the weird plant and he makes a note to ask Oin what it is later.

Bofur turns his head to watch the elves, and Nori feels a few of the others come a bit closer behind him. He pays no attention though as he watches the two elves make eye contact before starting to chant.

It's relaxing, their elvish words flowing through the room and Nori feels his entire body start to droop as he watches their hands start to glow. It's like the glow he saw on Legolas' hand when he was touching Fili's shoulder, only stronger and the longer he stares the more he hurts his eyes. But he doesn't look away, absolutely refuses, and he watches Bilbo's face closely for any sign of movement as the chanting gets louder and faster until suddenly there is a bright flash of light that blinds him for a moment.

It seems it does the same to the others as there is a cry of shock that fills the room. When he finally does get his sight back after blinking rapidly Nori looks around to see them either blinking themselves, or staring at Bilbo with wide hopeful eyes.

The look on Tauriel's face makes Nori's stomach drop.

"I…" she starts to say before she glances up at Legolas, "I don't understand."

"The infection is gone," Legolas mutters as he checks the hip wound, prodding at the ruby red skin that looks almost completely healed, "and it's nearly healed over." He walks around the bed to look at the other two wounds and Nori stretches his head to see they look the same.

"Legolas," Thorin quietly speaks up, "what is happening?"

The elves are both silent for a moment as they glance at one another before Legolas sighs. "The infections are gone," he says softly, "and the wounds will heal soon. But… we do not know if he will wake."

"What?" Dwalin snaps from the end of the bed, and Nori honestly hadn't noticed him or Ori come in. Legolas turns to him with a narrow gaze.

"He has been asleep for far too long," he explains, "his head wound was too large and too deep, and the fact that he had an infection _inside_ it that was sealed up and left to fester means that whatever head damage he had to begin with might've increase." He turns to look at Thorin and takes a step forward "I'm sorry, King Thorin," he apologizes quietly, "but there is nothing else we can do for him."

The room goes oddly still for a moment, and Nori stares at Legolas as if he's gone mad. Nothing they can do? _Nothing at all_? That doesn't mean… that _can't_ mean…

"He's going to die," Nori whispers into the dead quiet of the room, and Legolas gives him a small nod in confirmation.

"No," Thorin mutters, "no, no this can't be. You were, you were our only _hope_. This can't…"

It's Bifur who walks forward and places his hand down on Thorin's shoulder. Instantly Thorin reaches back and grasps onto it as he looks pat Bifur with wide and watery eyes.

"You hate me," he says, "you hate me for leaving him, don't you. You hate me because… because I'm the one who's killed him."

Bifur shakes his head though. " ** _You tried, Thorin_** ," Bifur murmurs back, " ** _at least you've tried. We can't do anymore for him now_**."

Nori clings to Bofur as he watches Thorin nod his head in agreement before he shakes it and covers his face.

Then suddenly there's a scream, a loud scream that's so empty and hollow, and it hurts Nori's ears as well as breaks his heart as he realizes it's Thorin who's screaming as he drops to the ground with his fists already pounding against the stone and sobs choke off the screams. Tears are on his king's face, streaming down in torrents as Thorin curls into himself and finally… _finally_ breaks. 

Nori can't watch, can't watch as Thorin sags with Fili and Balin on either side of him attempting to hold him up but not succeeding. Around them Ori sobs into Dwalin's shirt, as tears drips down Dwalin's face into Ori's hair. Dori sits with his head in his hands. Bombur pulls Bifur into a tight hug. Oin stands staring in shock as Gloin reaches for his brother. Kili starts to sag in place but Legolas catches him and unexpectedly draws the dwarf close. Tauriel sinks down to her knees in front of Thorin and Fili, and begins to murmur gentle words along with Balin.

Bofur shakes beneath him, and Nori glances down to see him looking up with tears streaming out of his eyes.

"Now what?" he asks, and there's so much hopelessness in his voice that Nori… that Nori can't think of an answer.

Instead he closes his eyes as his own tears start to rush forward, and sobs start to break from his throat, as the overwhelming sense of _loss_ hits him, and he surges forward to bury himself in Bofur's arms.

 

…

 

**DWALIN POV**

It takes longer than expected to calm Ori down. Not that it's surprising. The rest of the Company is not much better. Half are still crying and the others are all sniffling.

Dwalin himself knows his face is a blotchy red and his cheeks feel sticky. He's not ashamed. Bilbo is a great hobbit, one that he has admired ever since he stood up to that blasted trio of trolls, and now he's dying. It's not even a warriors death which Bilbo deserves. It's from poorly treated wounds, and he will die on a soft bed instead of a hard battlefield.

He has every intention on asking Bofur to create some songs about Bilbo's battlefield wits. The entire kingdom will know of the Company's littlest warrior before the funeral will even be over.

The Company treks the halls now. Kili leads them down corridors and walkways towards the royal quarters where Dwalin has no doubt they will all spend the night. It's sad to think that it's only the confirmation of Bilbo's future passing that has the Company banding together how they once were.

They're supporting each other once more. They're holding hands, linking arms, lifting each other up with their shoulders. They're silent in their march, but they still exchange small smiles no matter how morbid and Bofur hums a slow mournful tune. Even Thorin drifts to the side of the group as he once did, except this time he's slower in his march and his eyes do not leave the ground.

"Will he be okay?" Ori whispers from beside him, and Dwalin tightens his arm around Ori's waist.

"I don't know," he replies truthfully, and Ori just nods before he buries his face back into Dwalin's side and relies on him once more to guide him along. 

They reach the royal quarters a few moments later, and they all file through the doors until they're crowded in the large sitting room. 

"There are rooms down the hallway," Kili says quietly, but in the silence it's like a shout, "Tauriel has informed me that Legolas and herself will keep watch over Bilbo until morning in case there is a change. Otherwise we are to rest and then discuss the next move in the morning."

There's a grumble of agreement before everyone starts to peel off towards the rooms. Dwalin gives Ori a soft kiss before he pushes him gently towards Dori. He has no intentions on sleeping just yet, not when he sees Thorin sink into a nearby armchair with his hands over his face and his shoulders shaking.

The room does clear slowly though until it is only Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Balin. Nori is there too, lingering by the doorway, and Dwalin offers him a small smile that Nori returns as he hesitantly makes his way over.

"I've never seen him like this before," Nori mutters as soon as he's at Dwalin's side, "not even after his brother passed. Or after the Battles of Azanulbizar or Moria. "

"Frerin's death was bad," Dwalin agrees, "but this is his One, Nori. I think you should know now how it feels." He glances sideways to see Nori looking pale. "I can't imagine how it would feel to lose Ori. As you probably cannot for Bofur. But Thorin… he's losing his One."

"You're playing a different tune," Nori points out, "you were angry at him before. What's changed?"

"I was stupid," Dwalin sighs, "The gold sickness wasn't a choice. It's been in the Durin family line for years. I should've know it was coming, I _did_ know it was coming, but when it did I just… I couldn't associate the man I've followed with the man that chose to stay behind Erebor's wars and let men, elves and dwarves fight without our aid. He held Bilbo Baggins over the walls of Erebor, threatened to kill him then _banished_ him without a thought that Bilbo was his One. The gold sickness changed him, and I was too foolish to believe that it wasn't his fault."

"He regrets everything," Nori says, and Dwalin nods.

"As do I." 

He can't think of much else to say. He doesn't owe an apology to Nori, only to Thorin, but as he looks down to see his old friend watching Thorin with a pained eye he realizes that… well, maybe he does.

"I'm sorry," he coughs out awkwardly, and Nori looks at him with a raised eyebrow, "for, for antagonizing you. I have not been pleasant to you since the moment you joined Thorin's Company. I've held resentment towards you since you left us after the Battle of Moria."

"You know I couldn't-"

"You could've," Dwalin cuts Nori off firmly, "you could've stayed."

"Ori was your One, I couldn't betray my brother by pursing his One after finding that out" Nori says softly, "and Thorin had you to support him and be his friend. What was I to do except be a nuisance?"

Dwalin shakes his head as he places his hand on Nori's shoulder. "You were our friend," he replies, "and you were more useful than me half the time. I missed you when you left. There was no one else to roll my eyes at when Thorin went on a self-righteous tangent."

Nori laughs and Dwalin still thinks his eyes are beautiful even after all this time.

"Thorin had my loyalty," Nori murmurs after a moment, "but you always had my heart, Dwalin. I followed Thorin wherever he went, but I would've followed you till the ends of the earth."

"I know."

"That's why I had to leave," Nori sighs, "because I'd already ruined my family enough. I didn't need to be lusting after my brother's One. I left to save what was left of my family, to save you from being torn between myself and Ori."

"I-"

"You weren't in love like I was," Nori plows on as if Dwalin hadn't even spoken, "but I knew you almost were. Imagine where that would've left us?" He looks at Dwalin with a small smile. "I prefer to think we were just close friends than potential lovers, now. It means I can look Ori in the eye and not be overcome with guilt."

"We could've been great."

Nori shakes his head and there is a fond smile on his face. "Aye," he agrees, "we could've. But we're better now. We've found our Ones, you have Ori, I have Bofur. We've got our perfect matches."

Dwalin smiles at him as well, and he glances around the room to see Balin and Thorin in hushed conversation and the two princes have disappeared. Knowing he won't be seen he reaches out and cups Nori's cheek.

"I have missed you, Nori," he murmurs as Nori closes his eyes and leans into the touch. "You were a great friend when I needed one, and I hope we can return to that."

Nori opens his eyes and Dwalin keeps smiling as Nori reaches up to pull Dwalin's head down. He doesn't jump when he feels a soft pair of lips on the top of his head, and Nori lingers for a moment before pulling away and smiling sadly.

"Goodnight, Dwalin," he says quietly, and Dwalin feels his smile slip into something sad as he watches Nori turn and disappear down the hallway.

He's left standing by himself, just staring down the dark corridor, before he finally turns around and makes his way over to the roaring fire, his brother and… and his king.

"… is it supposed to hurt like this, Balin?" he hears Thorin asking so very softly, "is it supposed to feel like my heart is being ripped out string by string? Am I supposed to be unable to gasp for air? Is it supposed to feel like _I'm_ the one dying?"

It hurts Dwalin to hear those words, and he walks around the armchairs to settle in the one beside Thorin as Balin stands in front of them with wet tears on his cheeks.

"Not all love's hurt as much as this one," Balin says gently, "but you must've felt a very great love for it to be like this. I'm sorry, Thorin, I don't-"

Thorin holds up a hand to cut Balin off, and he gives Balin a very tired look. "Go to bed, Balin," he mumbles, "we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Balin doesn't argue, just nods tiredly at them both before he slips off down towards one of the rooms. Dwalin feels the sudden silence like the cold, and he glances over to see Thorin staring at the fireplace with the fire dancing in his dull eyes.

"You've lost love before, Dwalin," Thorin quietly says after a drawn out moment, "you've felt it's cold sting. Is it supposed to feel this bad?"

Dwalin thinks of Nori, no doubt tucked up beside Bofur now, and he thinks of Ori who sleeps like the dead, and he smiles a bittersweet smile to himself.

"Love always hurts," he replies after a moment, and Thorin turns his hollow gaze to him, "I guess it's all about finding who it's worth hurting for."

"I don't want to feel this," Thorin admits, "I don't want to feel this ache. It's everywhere, it's bone deep and it feels like it's never going to go away. I don't want to know love if this is what it leads to."

Dwalin doesn't think before he reaches out and takes Thorin's hand in his. "But was it worth it?" he asks, "is this pain worth the moments you have had? If you could go back and stop yourself from ever falling in love with Bilbo Baggins, would you?"

Thorin's eyes are still harsh, cold, hollow. But there's a small light in them as he shakes his head. "Never," he says, "Bilbo Baggins is worth this feeling. He's worth everything to me."

Dwalin smiles at him. "I'm sure he felt the same way. He appeared on that battlefield with one goal in mind. To help _you_ , Thorin. He regretted nothing."

Thorin watches him for a long moment before he turns back to the fire. "Just now was the first time I've seen him since he fell. I… he looked dead, Dwalin. I looked at Bilbo and my heart broke. How could this happen to him?"

"Sometimes these things happen, Thorin," Dwalin answers softly, "sometimes life just hands us obstacles-"

"I want some _happiness_ for once, Dwalin," Thorin interrupts. He sounds hysterical and Dwalin braces himself before he glances up to see Thorin looking wild and horrified, sad and… and Dwalin just wants to hug him but settles for just squeezes his hand.

"I know-"

"No. No you don't know because you're not me," Thorin cuts him off again, "I've lost my brother, mother, father, my grandfather. I nearly caused the deaths of my nephews and I've permanently injured one and earned the hatred of another. I've lost my close friends, Nori barely tolerates me now, and you… _you_ can't look at me without screaming pity. I've fought so long and hard for my kingdom, for my people, that I hate it that when I finally find something I want more than life itself… he's ripped from me."

Dwalin honestly cannot find words as Thorin pulls his hand away and covers his face. 

"I hate this, Dwalin," he says so quietly that Dwalin has to strain to hear it, "I hate this."

His mouth opens and closes, and he still struggles with words as Thorin glances over at him and grimaces.

"I remember when I was younger," he mumbles, "my grandfather always use to tell me to smile and 'look like you're enjoying it'. I remember thinking, 'If i was enjoying myself, I would be smiling.'"

Dwalin can't tear his eyes away from Thorin as tears well in his friends eyes and start to drop down his face. Still no words come to him, and all he can do is reach for Thorin's hand once more.

"I don't think I will ever smile again, Dwalin," Thorin admits, "after all, Bilbo was my only real joy."

It's because there are no words, he realizes. There is nothing he can say to his friend. He sits quietly at Thorin's side and listens to the crackling of the wood as the fire burns in front of them and the sounds of Thorin's quiet cries.

 

…

 

**DAIN POV**

It's late and he's still in his nightclothes as he hurries towards the throne room. If this is what being a king is supposed to be like then Dain definitely never wants power. Getting up at almost midnight to meet a dignitary for a 'surprise visit' irritates him to no end, and he slams both the doors into the walls as he storms into the room. 

"Bard," he greets as he sees the man standing on the dais. Bard turns around at the sound of the doors smashing against the walls, and he surprises Dain by hurrying down to stand in front of him.

He's not dressed neatly as usual, Dain notes, and if he's correct then that is possibly Bard's nightshirt underneath his usual long coat.

"Is it true?" Bard asks, "is it true that Bilbo Baggins is confirmed to be dying?"

Dain stands still in complete shock for a moment with his mouth hanging open. "How on _earth_ did you get that information?" he demands as soon as he finds his voice, and Bard recoils at Dain's loudness before he shakes his head.

"Legolas sent me a raven," he explains, "I just… is Thorin alright?"

He thought he was shocked before, but now he is practically astonished as he stares at the fidgeting human. Bard, in the middle of the night, rushed all the way to Erebor from Dale to find out if _Thorin Oakenshield_ is alright?

He wouldn't believe it if he weren't seeing it.

"Since when have you cared about Thorin Oakenshield?" he snaps with wide eyes of disbelief, "it was him who inadvertently destroyed your town, as you keep reminding us!"

Bard seems to struggle with his words for a bit before he sags in place. "My town was destroying itself," he mutters, "he merely fastened the process." He looks at Dain with a hard gaze as he straightens his posture. "He has helped us since though. Dale is nearly finished in reconstruction and it has only been a matter of weeks. He has put the comfort of my people before his own. If that is not something I should be indebted to then I don't know what is."

Dain purses his lips before he sighs and nods. "I understand," he says, "Thorin has a great deal for all of us. Come, a hot drink might do us both the world of good."

Bard doesn't argue as he follows Dain down towards the kitchens. There is no one around at this time which Dain is grateful for, and he potters around to make some hot cinnamon milk with a drop of Uncle Thrain's terrible ale in it to take the edge off.

"Alcohol at this time of night?" Bard asks with a raised eyebrow, and Dain snorts as he passes over the mug of his concoction before settling down at the table Bard is sitting at.

"Soothes the nerves," he says as he raises his mug for Bard to bump his against. They sit in silence for a long moment as they drink before Bard thuds his mug down on the table and raises an eyebrow once again.

"Thorin?"

"Complete goner," Dain states as he stares into his mug, "surprised you didn't hear him screaming from Dale. The poor man's lost his One now, or almost has. I think he's still struggling to accept it, but there's nothing we can do to stop Bilbo from dying."

"Divine intervention, maybe?" Bard offers, and Dain snorts.

"If the gods were generous then maybe this wouldn't have happened in the first place." He sighs as he glances across the table at Bard. "Thorin's been through a lot of shit in his life. If the gods had a sense of humanity then maybe they'd save Bilbo Baggins from passing over. I wouldn't bet on it though."

Bard grimaces as he swirls around the contents of his mug. "They won't even be reunited in the afterlife, will they?" he asks, and Dain shakes his head sadly. It's true, they won't. The hobbit afterlife is one way and the dwarven another.

"Mahal wouldn't let a hobbit into his domain."

"Interesting considering he's married to Yavanna."

Dain raises an eyebrow. "I didn't realise you knew about the various gods. How interesting."

Bard grins over the rim of his mug. "My wife was very interesting," he says before he takes a drink. He pulls it away with a 'ah' of gratitude before he holds out his mug for Dain to clink his again. "Here's to gods who're mighty pricks, yeah?"

Dain snorts. "I'll drink to that," he says as he slams their mugs together and tosses back half of the rest of his drink. He contemplates finishing it off, but decides against it as he drops it back to the table and fixes Bard with a look.

Bard seems unimpressed at Dain's look though, and he drops his now empty mug to the table and mutters, "what?"

"Are we going to sit here all night and discuss how much the gods are asses," Dain says, "or are we going to get on with what you really came here to say?"

Bard flounders for a moment with words, and Dain taps his fingers against the wooden table as he waits. Finally Bard sighs and nods.

"I had intentions on doing this with Thorin," he states, "but as I found out when I got here that you are now acting king, not Thorin, not Fili or Kili. I don't mind, you are as noble as the others, but-"

"Spit it out, Bard."

"I want to offer my services and men," Bard says, "to aid in the reconstruction of Erebor and whatever else is needed around here."

"You came in the middle of the night to say that?" Dain asks in disbelief, "couldn't you have waited until a decent hour?"

Bard looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. "I panicked?" he says, and Dain rolls his eyes. Bard clears his throat though and a serious look is back on his face as he leans across the table. "Bilbo Baggins has fallen, and I have no doubt the Company is close behind. You will need all the help you can get until they are recovered."

"If they recover," Dain sighs. "I'm not confident they will. Maybe everyone but Thorin, but the hobbit was close to all of them. You should've seen them when they first brought Bilbo in. I was afraid they'd all drop dead with him."

"Love is a cruel thing," Bard agrees, "but you can heal from love. Or at least continue on. I lost my wife and-"

"And you had children who need you and love you," Dain counters, "while Thorin has nothing but nephews who have a mother already and a kingdom he's sacrificed so much for that I'm surprised he can even walk these halls without feeling sick to his stomach."

Bard purses his lips as he glances down at his folded hands. "I can't imagine what he is really going through," he admits, "but… I mean, maybe he would benefit from someone knowing what he is going through."

Dain has another mouthful of his drink as he observes the human. Bard looks uncomfortable in his seat, no doubt unused to being so… _political_. It makes Dain take pity on the man and he drops his hands to the table.

"The Company will be in tatters. They're all in the royal quarters as we speak. I do not expect to see them for days lest I bump into them going towards the infirmary. They only had their worst fears confirmed tonight."

"I-"

"Legolas must've sent the raven as soon as the dwarves left the infirmary," Dain observes. "Why? I don't want to know. But the Company has handed over current regency to me and I intend to do what I can for this kingdom before whichever Durin finds the courage to take the throne."

"You don't want it?"

"I've never wanted it," Dain laughs, "and a foolish human who hurried here in the middle of the night because he _panicked_ and made me get up to great him has just sealed the deal. I wish to never be king. It's awfully hard."

Bard laughs with him as he shakes his head. "I apologize," he says as he stands. "I will head back to Dale now then and let you get your rest. I may see you tomorrow?"

"Nonsense," Dain declares as he rises and scoops their cups up to place on the bench. "We have many rooms here for you to stay in. I will take you to one now."

Bard gives him a thankful smile, and Dain just rolls his eyes as he escorts Bard through the halls until he reaches a spare room in the royal wing. Bard graciously bows his head as he enters the room, and as soon as the door closes Dain slumps against it.

He's not alone for long though. A quiet voice calls out his name and he glances around to see none other than Thorin standing at the end of the corridor.

Dain winces as he sees how pale Thorin looks. He's thin and frail looking when he's not wearing his large cloaks and jewels that the king is expected to wear. In fact he's merely wearing a tunic, leggings and boots that cling to his malnourished figure. His eyes, even from this distance, are obvious bruised and swollen, and his cheeks shine in the faint light cast by torches that line the corridor.

"Oh, _Thorin_ ," he whispers as he nears his cousin. Thorin doesn't say anything else, just watches as Dain approaches him, and Dain can't stop himself from just swooping Thorin up into a tight hug. "Thorin," he says again, "I'm, I'm so sorry."

"He's dying, Dain."

"I know."

"What do I do?" Thorin's voice cracks on the last word and Dain hugs him tighter to him as Thorin's arms snake around his waist and he pillows his head against Dain's shoulder.

"You focus on what's ahead," Dain says, "you think about your nephews and your sister. You think about Dwalin and Nori. You think about the Company and you work with them, you plan for them. You grieve and you accept the loss."

"I forget him?"

"No. No, Thorin," Dain disagrees as he pulls Thorin back and brushes a stray hair from his face. "Gods no, never forget him. You will never be able to, and you never should have to."

Thorin looks at him with watery eyes and Dain hates seeing his cousin look like this. It makes his heart ache and he hugs him again tightly. He doesn't wonder why Thorin is out in the corridor, maybe he heard Bard and Dain talking, but he's thankful that he can be the one to comfort his cousin now.

"I'm so lost, Dain," Thorin mumbles, "and I can't find myself."

"That's why I'm here," Dain says, "that _we're_ all here. We'll keep you on the right path, don't you worry." He chuckles as he places a hand on the back of Thorin's head and pulls him closer. "You always have had a shit sense of direction though, lets be honest."

The sob into his neck is a mixture between amusement and pain, and Dain closes his eyes as he just hold Thorin tight.

He won't let anything stop him from helping Thorin. No. He won't. Not this time.

 

…

 

**FILI POV**

The quarters is so silent as he makes his way out of his room and down the corridor. He pauses at the all the rooms to open the doors and have a small peek inside, and he smiles when he sees the Company all wrapped around one another.

Gloin, Oin and Bombur are all in one room snoring up a storm, and Fili quickly closes that door lest they wake everyone with their god-awful noises. Dori, Bifur and Balin are still up and give him small smiles when he pokes his head in their room. He wonders what they're doing, but it seems like sitting in a comfortable silence is the answer. 

Bofur has all but cocooned himself around Nori, and Nori holds Ori's hand as Dwalin sits against the wall wide awake with Ori's head in his lap. Fili nods at him as Dwalin offers a smile of his own, and Fili decides not to linger as he sees the haunted look in Dwalin's eye.

Kili is nowhere to be seen, but Fili has a small hunch that makes him think he knows exactly where he is. He's proven right when he limps out to the main sitting area and spots Kili perched in the armchair beside Uncle Thorin talking quietly.

He has half a mind not to interrupt, but knowing how nasty Kili can be when trying to deal with guilt he clears his throat and approaches them. 

Both look over and he winces as he sees Uncle Thorin looks more ragged than he had been earlier, and he flinches when he sees both of their eyes land on his leg as he stumbles over to sit on the ground in front of the fireplace embers. Kili starts to get up to no doubt offer his chair, and Fili ignores his brother as he settles on the ground with only minimal pain.

"Fili-" Kili starts, but Fili shoots him a glare.

"I must learn to live with this blasted leg, Kili," he snaps, "I am fine."

Kili looks pained as he sits back down, but Fili chooses not to look at him for long as he turns his gaze to Thorin. Thorin looks just as guilty himself, and he drops his gaze as soon as Fili makes eye contact with him.

"I'm sorry, Fili," he mumbles. "It's me who has done this. I have burdened you with an injury that will not go away and-"

"Whoa, hold on," Fili interrupts and Thorin looks up in surprise, "I didn't realise you dressed yourself up as an orc and fought against us in the battle. Remind me to get my eyes seen to by Oin."

"Fili-"

"No," he cuts his Uncle off again, "no don't you dare apologize for something that is not your fault. It was me who looked away from the orc, and it was the orc that cut me with his sword. You had no part in it."

"It was my fault the battle even begun."

Fili looks over at Kili for some help, but when he sees his brother staring at his hands with shame he grits his teeth. "It was because of you that we won," he says to his Uncle and he watches Kili look up in surprise, "because frankly if you hadn't pissed off the elves and humans then they wouldn't have been there to help us defend this wretched mountain. Thirteen of us verses a whole army of orcs and wargs? We would've been murdered within moments. The gold sickness is a terrible thing, and I wish for it never to touch another, but there were merits to the madness."

Both Thorin and Kili are looking at him in shock, and Fili tries not to feel a sense of accomplishment.

"He… he's right," Kili finally says and Fili stares at him in pure surprise as well as Thorin, "we would've lost the battle were it not for our allies. I remember seeing you amongst the crowd, Uncle. You called them all to you, you killed Azog and you destroyed at least half of their army before you fell. If it weren't for you, we would've been lost."

"Kili-"

"I've been horrible to you, Uncle. I've blamed you for things that were out of your control. The gold sickness was not a choice. Fili and I are lucky to have not been exposed to this cursed gold in our upbringing but you… you were always going to be a victim of it. And I-"

"You don't have to explain, Kili," Thorin says, and Fili shakes his head.

"No," he snaps, "no he does need to explain. Because Kili is so wrapped up in being _guilty_ over Bilbo's condition that he's been taking it out on you. He owes you an apology."

Kili stares at Fili for a long moment before he sighs. "Again he's right," he mutters before he reaches out and takes Thorin's hands. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, "for being such a rotten nephew. I took my guilt and grief out on you because you were an easy target. I didn't stop to think about the consequences, I didn't think about how you would feel. I was hurt, and I was guilty, and it's no excuse. I'm sorry, Uncle."

Fili nods his head as he watches Thorin's eyes start to water. This is good, he thinks, and he's surprised when Kili reaches out and takes his hand as well.

"Kili, wha-"

"I'm sorry to you too, Fili," he interrupts, "because if I had been a good brother I would've stood at your side and been the most supportive person as the world fell down around us. But I'm not a good brother, I know that now, and I have every intention on becoming one if you will teach me."

Fili is speechless as he looks at his brother. Never had he imagined he would get an apology from Kili as well, but he will readily accept it and he grins at his brother as he squeezes their hands.

"Thank you, Kili," he replies softly, "I too am sorry, for the harsh words I have said against you. We are brothers, not enemies."

Kili smiles at him. "Apology accepted," he says, and Fili smiles back before he glances at Thorin who's watching them with watery eyes. 

"I'm glad you have each other," he murmurs after a moment. "It makes things easier to know that you are willing to get past whatever difference you have with one another so as to live peacefully."

"Uncle, what are you-" Kili starts to say but Fili cuts him off as he surges forward to grab Thorin's knee.

He grits his teeth momentarily in pain before he speaks. "Do not think we don't need you, Uncle," he says with conviction, "because we do. You're the father we've grown up with. You're our family. We'd be lost without you."

Thorin looks completely heartbroken as he looks at Fili, his mouth half open and his eyes still watering something awful. Fili keeps his gaze though with a determination he's always admired in his Uncle. Thorin has to know how important he is.

"You cannot fade," he mumbles a moment later, and he feels Kili squeeze his hand in surprise, "not from us. We _need_ you."

"We love you, Uncle Thorin," Kili agrees as he shuffles from his seat to the ground. Fili follows suit and they rest their heads on one of Thorin's knees each.

"Don't go, Uncle Thorin," Fili murmurs, "please don't."

Thorin's hands move to their heads and Fili closes his eyes as Thorin starts to gently stroke their hair. Kili's hand is still in his, and he holds it tighter as he hears his younger brother start to cry softly.

"I'm sorry, boys," Thorin mumbles above them, "I'm so sorry."

Before he too falls to tears, Fili wonders just what he could've done to stop all of this from happening. Surely there must've been something he could've done, something he could've said. 

He can't think of anything though, and he sends a silent prayer to the gods that they help not just Bilbo, but his Uncle through this also.

"We can't lose you," Fili whispers, "not again."

 

…

 

**THORIN POV**

After leaving his nephews curled up in front of the dying embers together and reassuring Dain he would be alright, Thorin makes his way to the infirmary.

The halls are empty around him, with only a few torches lighting the way. His footsteps echo off the stone walls and he feels an overwhelming feeling of loneliness overcome him that he tries to keep at bay by huddling into himself. It doesn't work though, and he feels the cold of the night down to his bones.

He wonders if this might be the last time he makes this walk to the infirmary. Bilbo mustn't have much time left at all. He doesn't delude himself into thinking that the impossible might happen, that Bilbo might wake.

The elves are both sitting by Bilbo's bedside when he walks in. He doesn't say anything, and he's thankful that Legolas seems to understand as he just guides a protesting Tauriel from the room. If he could smile, he would, but he can't so he merely takes Legolas' seat at Bilbo's side.

All things considered, he wouldn't believe Bilbo was dying if he were told right now. His hobbit looks so at peace. Maybe a little too pale, definitely too still, but otherwise he looks as if he's sleeping with his chest rising and falling with a slow heartbeat.

It hurts Thorin to look at him, and he drops his gaze as he slowly reaches out to take Bilbo's hand.

"So," he says, "this is what I deserve for being a fool."

They're the first words he's spoken to Bilbo in a long time, and it seems that as soon as he speaks he cannot stop.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo," he mutters, "oh how I am sorry. I've been nothing but the cause of your misery since you stepped out of your hobbit hole. I had no faith in you, I humiliated you every chance I had, I made you seem like nothing but a failure to not only the Company but to yourself and I _hate_ myself for it."

He swallows the thickness in his throat and blinks past the tears as he tightens his grip on Bilbo's hand.

"And now look? Now I am the cause of your death. If I had not succumbed to gold sickness so easily, if I had not been such a _fool_ , then maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe you wouldn't be lying on this bed dying before my very eyes while looking like you could merely be sleeping. Maybe this is the gods way of punishing me, by taking you from me."

He feels as if he's choking on the very air he is breathing. He drops his head to press it against Bilbo's hand and wonders if maybe _this_ is also his punishment.

"I've lost. Once again I have _lost_ , Bilbo. I've been losing and losing since the day that my grandfather went mad and the kingdom was lost to a dragon. I have never won any shred of happiness, and when I did… it's taken from me. I made a mistake and everything that I have been fighting for has been lost." He sighs. "I've never been happier than I was during the nights that I spent in your arms listening to you prattle about the Shire."

He reaches back to slip his hand into his pocket and he pulls out a handful of small wooden buttons.

"It sounded so wonderful," he tearfully admits. "I would've loved to have retired with you to the Shire to live. It wouldn't have been the life for a king, but I have not been a king for a very long time, have I?"

The wooden buttons press into his hands harshly as he clenches them tightly. He leans forward to place them into one of Bilbo's hands, letting each small acorn button drop gently onto Bilbo's palm before he closes Bilbo's fingers around them then covers Bilbo's hand once more with his own.

"They're not brass," he explains quietly, "but they're made from an oak tree. I thought… I thought maybe for once the name of 'Oakenshield' can mean something other than a reminder of grief and loss. I thought maybe you would always be able to carry a small part of me with you everywhere you go, as I carry a part of you with myself."

He brushes aside some of Bilbo's hair and looks upon his face. He misses Bilbo's eyes the most, he thinks, the bright colour and the endless merriment in them. Yes, he misses Bilbo's eyes.

"After all," he continues, "you are my One. I will never love another like I love you, for I do love you, Bilbo. I never thought myself capable of loving someone, let alone a small hobbit from the Shire who complained more than any dwarf I've ever heard and cannot even ride a pony without looking more awkward than Fili with a bow. But somehow I do love you, somehow you are my One," he closes his eyes, "and I wouldn't want to change that for the world."

The room falls silent once he's stopped talking. His last words echo off the walls and he hates how _alone_ he feels.

"You should never have left the Shire," he whispers, "you should've gone back to your books, your armchair, your fireplace. You should've planted your trees and watched them grow. You should've lived a long and happy life, Bilbo Baggins."

He opens his eyes and stands up to press his forehead to Bilbo's, his hand still tightly wrapped around Bilbo's as he leans over him.

"I've never been one to believe in fairy tales or happily ever afters," he breathes then he leans up and presses a very soft kiss to Bilbo's forehead. "But how I would've loved to have had one with you."

 

…

 

**BILBO POV**

He can't say everything is dark. It's not. He can still see shapes and sizes but he can only see outlines in the room. Sometimes there's an odd person bright in colour, but Bilbo doesn't recognize them and they don't know him.

So he walks. He walks amongst the outlines and sometimes there is noises that hurt his ears, and other times there's nothing but a dead silence. His feet don't make a sound as he walks along but it doesn't bother him.

He never gets hungry or thirsty. When he's tired he lies down and sleeps for what feels like forever, then he wakes up and just continues walking. He wonders to himself if he should be frightened or worried but he's not.

He's simply at _peace_.

It never occurs to him that he might be dead. Not until it's pointed out to him. He's walking once again when he finds the man and lady. His hands are clasped behind his back as he wanders along between outlines when he sees them looking at him from a distance. They're both old as they sit on a bench all hunched and with wrinkles, but there is an eternal look in her eyes and a blazing heat in his.

They're the first people in bright colours to smile at him and the lady even raises her hand to gesture him over. He's still not worried as he makes his way towards them, taking his time as he glances at a few outlines that he passes and chuckling at the more bizarre looking ones. But he does reach the bench after a while and he smiles at them as they make room for him to sit between them.

"Good morning," he says. It's habit for him to say it, even though there is no sun or outdoors in this area. The lady smiles at him though, her large white teeth shining as she reaches out to pat his knee.

"Good morning, Bilbo," she replies in kind, and normally Bilbo would wonder how someone knows his name, but this time he just smiles pleasantly at the lady and raises his eyebrow when the man merely grunts. "Don't be so rude," the lady hisses at him, and Bilbo smothers a chuckle.

"I must ask, do you by chance know where we are? I have asked a few people but they have never answered me," he asks into the silence and the lady gives him a smile with her knowing look.

"We are wherever you want us to be, Bilbo," she answers, and the man on the other side grumbles under his breath.

"Your imagination runs this place," he says, "think of wherever you wish to be right now and we will be there."

Bilbo is confused at that, but he offers the two a thankful smile as he stews over the words. Think of wherever he wished to be? The sweet gardens of Bag End automatically pop out at him, and he closes his eyes as he thinks about smelling the carefully tended roses and eating those prized tomatoes. It's the lady's small gasp that has him open his eyes again and he stares in complete awe at his surroundings.

The outlines and people are gone. Replaced instead by trees and dirt lanes and smiling hobbits as they go about their business. He knows the fence and the bushes around him, and he feels himself instantly relax as he realizes he's sitting on his bench in front of his house.

"Oh my, it's _beautiful_ ," the lady coos from beside Bilbo, and he gives her a warm smile.

"That it is," he agrees, "it's home."

She gives him a bright smile, and Bilbo blushes as he glances around him. It almost feels _real_ , he thinks as he observes the passing hobbits. He even sees Lobelia strutting past with her crony friends gossiping with her.

"It is real," the man suddenly speaks up and Bilbo jumps at his unexpected words, "all of this. It's real. They can't see us but that doesn't mean we aren't here."

Of course Bilbo doesn't believe him. How can he really be in Hobbiton when only five minutes ago he was in a black room filled with outlines and the occasional colorful person? Although, he has to rethink that thought when he sees none other than young Hamfast Gamgee come bouncing out onto the lane from the house next door.

He's grown from when Bilbo last saw him. More curls and a bigger grin, and Bilbo watches in amusement as he walks past in his best dress with a handful of flowers clamped tight behind his back. He'd told Hamfast to watch for his return when he'd first left, and Bilbo wonders at the words the man beside him had said as Hamfast's eyes flicker over to the spot Bilbo is sitting at but there is no sign of recognition. 

There, at the end of the lane exactly where Hamfast is heading, is none other than Bell Goodchild standing with her hands behind her back as she twists her feet in the dirt and blushes at Hamfast. Over the fence Bilbo can see old Hobson "Roper" Gamgee watching with a smug smile.

"Oh he's been wanting young Hamfast and Bell to make it official for a long time," Bilbo comments to the lady and man, and both look at him with raised eyebrows. "They're a suitable match and like each other well enough," Bilbo explains, "and quite frankly Hamfast dotes on her more than anyone else he's ever had eyes for."

"Is that all hobbits do?" the man questions with a narrow gaze, "eat and arrange marriages?"

"We sleep as well," Bilbo replies tersely, not too interested in the man's lack of manners and the lady shoots the man a glare before smiling at Bilbo.

"You believe us then?" she asks him, "that this is real? You don't think that you are crazy or anything like that?"

Bilbo looks at her for a long moment with his lips pursed before he sighs. "I do remember being killed, you know," he says quietly, "I remember the goblin's knife and the pain in my head. I remember seeing the others calling out for me, and I remember just waking up to black." He pauses and watches young Hamfast hand Bell the bouquet of flowers. "I don't know where I am though. This isn't the afterlife, I know that. The hobbit afterlife is supposed to be a place with endless sunshine and forest. With food for miles and a second breakfast that practically never ends. There supposed to also be enough gossip to keep even the chatty Birdlegrace's entertained."

"It is marvelous," the lady says, and Bilbo snorts.

"To a busybody such as Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, or fat old Otho who's own second breakfast has become legendary, maybe," Bilbo says before he fixes the lady with a hard stare and she shrugs. "Where am I then? I'm not in the hobbit afterlife, and I'm not in any other that I know of."

She just stares back at him for a long time, her lips quirked in a knowing smile and Bilbo can't help but feel a little frustrated. His pleasant mood from before has vanished, and he can't help the irritation building up.

"I'm in a midway point, aren't I? Or something like that?" he ends up asking, and the lady's grin is enough of an answer to show he is right. "But how?"

"You weren't killed, Bilbo," she says, "merely wounded. You've been unconscious for a very long time. You have not passed on, so you are unable to go forth to the afterlife."

"But neither are you alive," the man continues for her, "so you may not wake either."

"So what? I have to make a decision then? Life or death?"

"You're awfully perceptive," the lady says as she frowns, and Bilbo laughs softly.

"I'm a Baggins," he points out, "and Baggins have always been the thinkers in the hobbit community. I may have some Took in me, but," he smiles, "but I am my fathers son and I try to do him proud."

The lady smiles once again and Bilbo is starting to get unnerved by her endless cheeriness and that eternal glint in her eye. He wonders who she really is. Clearly she is not an old lady as she appears, and he doubts the man beside him is also his true self.

"You have two options," the man grunts, and Bilbo thinks the man reminds him a lot of Dwalin, "you can either choose death and join your hobbit friends in the afterlife. Or you can choose to live and return to your normal life." He raises his hand and points at young Hamfast still blushing with young Bell, and Bilbo frowns at the sight.

"I wouldn't return back to the Shire if I wake," he tells them both, and the lady looks shocked as she stares at him. But he smiles and reaches out to pat her arm. "This isn't really home anymore."

"You're a changed hobbit," the man agrees, "you are different to what you once were."

"Exactly," Bilbo nods his head and doesn't wonder how they know what he was once like. It's obvious they're something not of the normal world, and he decides it's easier too just go with the flow than argue. "I've never been a very good hobbit in the first place. Too much of a Took and too much of a Baggins, my father use to say. One moment I'd be out adventuring and the next I'd be locked in my room and refusing to come out. I never did really converse with the others."

"Where would you go then?" the lady asks, and Bilbo sighs as he thinks of his _real_ home. He decides it's probably best to show her, and he closes his eyes as he thinks of stone walls and cold floors.

He opens his eyes after only a moment when it's the man who stiffens beside him, and he glances out of the corner of his eyes to see the man staring in shock at the throne room they're sitting in.

"Erebor?" he asks, and Bilbo nods his head.

"It's not home. Not yet. But Thorin is here, and Thorin is my home."

"Thorin Oakenshield?" the man asks in even more disbelief, and Bilbo grins.

"Goodness yes," he says before he closes his eyes again, "I will show you."

He thinks of his own memories and he hopes that the room changes with past as well as the present. He think about their embrace on Carrock, the way that Thorin's arms had held him so tightly and he'd felt so safe wrapped up in Thorin's arms. He thinks of their first kiss only a few weeks later, awkward and rushed in a room at Beorn's house and Dwalin had burst in with a furious blush because " _the others are coming dammit, show some decency!_ ". 

He remembers Thorin had held him tight at night as the others had sleep and he'd murmured dwarfish songs under his breath, and then Thorin had laughed when Bilbo had asked if the dwarves have any love songs. "I can write one for you," Thorin had said, "it might be the first."

The gasps of the pair beside him spurs him on as he hears Thorin's voice echoing through the room as well as in his head. He remembers Thorin cheekily handing him a daisy with a light blush on his cheeks. He thinks about how he had laid with Thorin under the stars with their hands entwined as Thorin had answered his questions about Ones, and Bilbo remembers that was the point he'd realised just how much he _really_ meant to Thorin. 

He remembers falling from his pony and hopping along on one foot as Thorin had laughed from his own pony and later he'd mumbled how he was clearly in love with an idiot in Bilbo's ear. He remembers pretending to be asleep as Thorin had stroked his hair and murmured the words of an elvish love song he'd clearly learned just for Bilbo. He remembers Thorin complimenting Bilbo on his feet for being so sturdy, and Bilbo grins as he thinks about how he'd had to explain to Thorin that complimenting feet is quite personal for a hobbit, and he recalls Thorin blushing furiously as he'd declared that he stood by what he'd said.

He thinks about the last time they'd spent just lying together as the campfire had crackled at their feet and the stars had twinkled above their heads while Thorin had just _looked_ at him. They hadn't said anything, just stared at each other before Thorin had smiled a smile Bilbo'd only ever seen once before and Bilbo had felt his stomach flutter as he'd thought that if hobbit's had Ones, then Thorin would be his.

He manages to open his eyes in time to see a moment of that smile all around him before they're in the Erebor throne room once more. He glances at the two sitting on either side of him to see the man looking back with a kind smile and the lady looking tearful.

"Crazy he may be," Bilbo says softly, "but that does not dim my love for him. I have waited a long time to finally feel like I belong somewhere. To be somewhere where I can be both a Baggins and a Took, and here in Erebor? With Thorin and his company? Here is where I found it."

The lady still looks tearful as she stares at him, and he can't help but wriggle a little uncomfortably. Instead of saying anything else though he stares at the doors around them just waiting to see if Thorin is to come through the doors. It has been much too long since he has seen his love, and his body psychically aches with the need to see him.

Luckily there is a stomping noise that fills the silence between them all, the sound of dwarven boots on stone floor, and Bilbo feels a spark of excitement as he watches the large stone doors and waits for Thorin to burst through.

It's not Thorin though who opens the door. Nor is it Thorin who is conversing heatedly with Bard and it's not _Thorin_ who sits on the throne with the royal crown on his head and stares down at his hands with a forlorn look on his face.

"Why is Dain on the throne?" Bilbo asks out loud, and he stares in shock as he realizes that _Dain_ is clearly the King of Erebor now. What has happened to Thorin? Where has he gone? _Why is he not on the throne?_  

He wonders for a moment if Thorin died in the battle. The mood in the throne room is sombre enough and both Bard and Dain are wearing mourning black, and he thinks it's possible that Thorin has died.

It hurts even more though when he realizes that he will never get to see Thorin ever again. _Ever_. Their afterlives are so different, and he can't help the sinking feeling in his stomach as he looks down at his hands.

"Is Thorin…" he starts to ask, but can't finish his sentence as his throat closes up.

"It's you they are mourning," the man quietly says as his hand rests on Bilbo's shoulder, "Thorin is alive."

"Show me him," Bilbo croaks, " _please_."

The room spins for a moment, and Bilbo is thankful he has closed his eyes the past few times, but then he isn't thankful when he sees Thorin sitting beside Bilbo's body, _his body_ , and Bilbo's heart jumps into his throat when he sees the tears on Thorin's face and just how _wrecked_ he is. His hand is clasping Bilbo's tightly, and Bilbo frowns as he feels a tingle along his fingers, and he stretches them out to see if it goes away. It doesn't though, and he stares at his hand in shock as he feels the gentle strokes of Thorin's hand on his.

"How much do you know about dwarven Ones?" the lady asks him as she reaches out to hold his hand tightly, and Bilbo lets her as he smiles reluctantly at her.

"That I am his," he whispers, "that there is only ever one person they love, and I am it for him. He will never love another after this, he never thought he would love anyone in the first place and…"

He stands up suddenly and straightens his shoulder as he takes a shaky step forward to stand beside Thorin. He raises a hand to reach out and touch his love, but his hand slides straight through Thorin's shoulder and his heart clenches. He hates this, he hates seeing Thorin like this.

"I choose life," he declares, and he turns around to face the two on the bench. He doesn't even flinch when he sees they're different now. The old lady is now a young woman in a flowing green dress and the man beside her resembles a human dressed as a dwarf. Bilbo knows who they are with an unexpected twist in his stomach, yet he still takes a determined step forward as they watch him cautiously.

"Are you sure, Bilbo?" the lady asks as she shifts forward on the seat and is only stopped by the man's grip on her hand, "you'd rather life than a peaceful rest in the afterlife?"

He pauses for maybe a moment to think about Thorin's smile. He's only ever seen it a few times, the first when they'd stood on Carrock so long ago staring at Erebor with all the hope in their hearts. He remembers the warmth in his chest and the glow in his veins as Thorin had gripped his shoulders tight and grinned down at him with so much _joy._

Oh, he misses that smile, and he turns to stare at the couple who're watching him with smiles on their faces. They already know his decision.

He decides the first thing he is going to do when he wakes up is kiss the living daylights out of Thorin, and it seems they read his mind as she grins even harder and the man laughs.

Bilbo takes a deep breath and takes one last glance at Thorin before turning to the couple with a grin.

"I never really did care for second breakfast anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention on writing an end note, but I feel I must.
> 
> This is the end. I know it feels like there needs to be another chapter, a proper ending, but this fic wasn't supposed to finish with everything wrapped up in a neat bow. This was supposed to just show the beginning, show the way the Company depends on Bilbo and each other.
> 
> I based this fic a lot around my father's passing. I don't believe I will ever be able to write what happens after Bilbo wakes, simply because I don't know. I'm the part of the Company in an alternate world who had to live without Bilbo, but we're lucky that this Company doesn't.
> 
> It's up to you, as the reader, where this story goes. Whether Bilbo and Thorin rule Erebor together or go to the Shire. Whether Nori becomes a noble once more with Bofur at his side or the two become the next Bonnie and Clyde. If Dwalin gets over his issues regarding his and Ori's relationship or if it breaks them. If Nori and Dwalin can live together after what has happened between them. Whether Fili can become the king he wishes to be. If Kili grows up. Just know that Bilbo wakes and there is a happily ever after somewhere.
> 
> After all, that's what Thorin has always wanted. A happily ever after with Bilbo. And Bilbo Baggins has always wanted Thorin Oakenshield to be happy.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being completely honest? I wasn't going to do this. I really wasn't.
> 
> But after some encouragement, and I mean _a lot_ of encouragement, I decided to at least try and write an epilogue. 
> 
> If it hadn't been for my mother though, this never would've been completed. She sat down with me one afternoon and said to me "let's give them an ending", and here we go. It's completed. This story is officially over.
> 
> It's nothing much, but hopefully its enough.

_**EPILOGUE** _

**FILI**

Fili's limp never goes. He learns to live with it and eventually the pain dies down to a dull throbbing. He is strong though, and he doesn't let it stop him from striding after his Uncle's shadow to surpass it. 

He becomes King. It's a shock to the rest of the kingdom but Thorin tells Fili of his wishes to leave for the Shire almost straight after he asks Bilbo. He tells Fili he won't leave until Fili is ready.

But Fili is not blind. He sees the toll the kingdom has taken on his Uncle and he strives to be ready for the crown in his Uncle's eyes. He's always wished the best for his Uncle, and Fili has always been prepared to make sacrifices for his family.

Fili doesn't last long on the throne though. He makes a great king, but the weight of battles still rests on his shoulders and eventually he passes the crown to his brother after years of Balin and himself teaching Kili how to be a _proper_ king. 

He stays as an advisor to Kili though, and he is happier in his position. More so than he ever has been. He too visits the Shire often. Nori comes by with Bofur to pick him up and drop him off like a mother taking their children to schools, and Fili enjoys every moment of it.

He never feels lonely again. 

 

**KILI**

Kili grows up, slowly but surely. He learns to stand at his brothers side. He learns to be king and becomes his brothers best friend once more. When the crown is passed onto him he takes it with courage and a determination many haven't seen since Thorin Oakenshield took up the mantle. 

Kili improves the kingdom. He makes it a peaceful place, a new home to all of the lost dwarves. He thinks about Bilbo's words long ago outside of the goblins caves, about not having a home but being determined to get it back, and Kili wears those words like a suit of armour.

Under Kili's rule Erebor becomes a home to any and all, and it remains as such when it is passed down to Thorin III. 

 

**BALIN**

Unlike his brother, Balin stays true to his fathers teachings. He pledges his allegiance to whoever has the Durin crown and he advises them for as long as he is able to. He always yearns to see Thorin and Bilbo again though, and before he grows too old to be confined to a bed he makes a trip across Middle-Earth. 

His reunion with Thorin and Bilbo is his first and last. But it's the happiest moment of his life, and Balin wouldn't change that for the world.

 

**DWALIN & ORI**

Dwalin and Ori's relationship is fragile for a long time. Dwalin can never quite wrap his head around Ori being his One despite Ori's insistence that they are _meant_ for each other.

It might have something to do with Nori, it might not.

But Ori is persistent. He has patience and he waits until Dwalin is ready. Ori knows what he wants, and he'll do anything to get it. It's something that Dwalin has always admired in him.

Ori is not as oblivious as they seem to think. Ori knows about Dwalin and Nori's history. He says nothing though when he realises that Nori leaves to give them a chance at being happy without old feelings getting in the way. Ori can live with that, and Bofur smiles at him as they share a sort of kinship. 

Dwalin eventually gets used to the idea though, and when he finally and _truly_ accepts Ori as his One with all his heart, Ori is over the moon. They stay together from then on. Permanent fixtures at each others side.

Dwalin leaves Erebor a while after Kili is crowned king. Balin doesn't understand how his brother can so easily turn aside their training but Ori does. Dwalin has pledged his life to one king, and one king only. 

They visit all the great libraries and historical sites around Middle-Earth, and Dwalin happily lets Ori lead the way on their own adventures. They visit the Shire regularly, much like Nori and Bofur, and they stay for long periods of time. 

They return to Erebor a few times, but both have decided their homes are each other. It doesn't matter where they are, as long as they're together.

 

**BOMBUR**

Bombur raises his family and remains a loyal friend to Fili. He coaches him through each and every disaster that happens, mainly caused by Dain's lack of political prowess, and considering his sway with the cooks he is able to smuggle more pain medication than usual into Fili's meals. He treats the lad like one of his own, right up until the day Fili disappears for good to the Shire.

 

**DAIN**

Dain leaves Erebor without looking back. He hugs his cousin when he leaves, as well as the hobbit, but he does not envy them. Ruling a kingdom and a bunch of unsettling dwarves is not for him, and he leaves for the Iron Hills as merely a Lord.

He's happy with that though. Thorin keeps to his promises and gives Dain some much needed land. The Iron Hills fare beautifully once more.

No one else ever does find out that Thranduil actually sent his son to heal Bilbo, and when Dain sees Thranduil at one of the meetings that Fili calls when he is king he punches him out of spite. It nearly causes a war that Fili barely stops, and Dain is certain that _that moment_ might have been when Fili decided to hand the crown to his brother. 

Dain remains fiercely loyal to Thorin and his nephews, and when Kili takes no wife and bears no heirs he offers his son Thorin III as Kili's heir. Kili readily accepts, and Dain is happier knowing that the line is secure. That everything his cousin worked for has not gone for naught. 

He never does see Thorin again. But he feels safe in the knowledge that wherever this blasted Shire place is, Thorin is _happy_.

 

**OIN**

Oin quits his job. Bilbo's miraculous recovery makes him decide that he is clearly no longer equipped for such ridiculous medical phenomenons. 

He takes Gralf properly under his wing as his apprentice and teaches him everything he knows. Many times he considers finding a new apprentice considering Gralf can be slow on the uptake and Oin does _not_ have time for that.

Gralf excels though and Oin retires to spend his days up with the ravens. No one else can quite have the same amount of snark as those bloody birds, and Kili believes that Oin can become a smaller version of Radagast if he wanted to.

Oin is of course above being rude to the, at that point, young heir. But he still puts some herbs in Kili's dinner every night for a week that makes the young lad visit the privy more than usual.

 

**NORI & BOFUR**

Dwalin and Nori don't settle their differences. Their past is too rich in emotions and Nori finds himself deciding to leave one day. He can't bear to be around Dwalin anymore as the memories are too much for him. 

He never tells Ori. He can't ruin his brother like that because he knows Ori would step back and allow Dwalin and Nori a chance at their own happiness, and Nori has always been told by Dori that being selfish is cruel. 

He tells Bofur though, and Bofur smiles sadly as he says, "I'm happy as long as you're happy. If Dwalin is what you want-" and Nori cuts him off with a kiss because _Bofur_ is what he wants. 

The noble life never suited him anyway, and Bofur agrees as they leave Erebor behind them. They become thieves of Middle-Earth, except Bofur's moral compass outweighs Nori's and they ended up doing more good than anything else. Nori has always liked Robin Hood after all, and Bofur is perfectly happy to put on a dress and pretend to be Maid Marion if it makes Nori smile. 

They spend a lot of time in the Shire. Nori reconnects with Thorin after so many years of absence, and Bofur has always delighted in Bilbo's company. Thorin even comes with them every now and again, and Bilbo mutters, "tea is at four" as he closes the door on them. 

Nori learns to live with his past. Bofur helps him learn to love himself once more even though Nori focuses more on loving Bofur. They get past Nori's guilt over his lawlessness and being in love with his brother One. Bofur helps him, and one day when Dwalin turns up at Bag End, Nori is able to hug him tightly and think about nothing but friendship.

 

**BILBO & THORIN**

After Bilbo wakes up everyone expects everything to go back to normal, or what they perceive as normal. Thorin will be king, Bilbo will be the consort, and they will rule Erebor with the strength of a dwarf and the kindness of a hobbit.

Except, they forget that almost losing a One is damaging. Thorin is never the same again. He becomes more quiet, more reserved. He doubts his every action and he never becomes the King he promised he would, and Bilbo finds himself worrying alongside the Company about their King's condition.

Although, one day, when the sun has just risen and Bilbo is stretching awake, Thorin rolls over in bed and quietly murmurs, "I wish to move to the Shire." Bilbo is stunned, pleasantly surprised for he misses the Shire greatly, but stunned at Thorin none the less. 

He agrees to the move though. They crown Fili, bid farewell to the Company and Bilbo ensures that they remember _the door is always open_. Then they silently take their things and leave Erebor behind them. 

They travel Middle-Earth for the longest of times. Bilbo has always wanted an adventure, and Thorin is happy to comply with his hobbit's wishes even though it means elves at every turn of the way and a long stay with Elrond. Eventually though, they do get to the Shire and Bilbo watches in amusement as Thorin stomps around the neighborhood to collect all of Bilbo's possessions that had been stolen.

He sees a spark of the old Thorin when he watches him argue with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins about Bilbo's spoons, and he thinks that maybe moving to the Shire is the best thing for his love after all. 

They settle into their new life. Thorin makes dinner once a week, Bilbo scrunches his nose up over it every time and ends up asking Thorin to make some hot cinnamon milk (because Thorin Oakenshield makes marvelous hot drinks). They garden and sell their crops for money and enter competitions that Thorin grins over winning. Thorin plays with the hobbit children and Bilbo loves how carefree he becomes. 

The Shire brings out a Thorin he hasn't seen since the nights they'd curled up together around a campfire away from prying eyes. It brings out _his_ Thorin, the one he'd fallen for in the most loveliest of ways, and Bilbo finds himself falling more and more in love with Thorin every single day.


End file.
